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THE MYSTERY OF 
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THE MYSTERY OF 
KUN-JA-MUCK CAVE 


GEORGE Ff'TIBBITTS 

I' 

A STRANGE MYSTERY TRAILING THROUGH THE BEAUTIFUL 
MOUNTAIN AND LAKE COUNTRY OF THE ADIRONDACKS 


FRONTISPIECE BT 

FRANK R. SOUTHARD 



PUBLISHED BY 

BRIEGER PRESS, Inc. 


409 PEARL STREET 


NEW YORK, N. Y. 













COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY 

BRIEGER PRESS, Inc. 





PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


©C1A7G6590 

'Vto 1 


0 ^ CONTENTS 

W 

JL CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Driven to the Wilderness. 1 

II. The Grip of the Orendaga Guides.19 

III. Mattie O’Neil of the Bearfoot Inn .... 38 

IV. Music Begins in the Heart.57 

V. Where Heaven Touches Earth.73 

VI. The Minstrel Show.83 

VII. The Quest Begins.98 

VIII. The Trail to West Canada Lake.109 

IX. The Surprise.120 

X. The Island of Peaceful Haven.133 

XI. The Crow and the Lily.143 

XII. The King’s Chair.154 

XIII. The Old Trapper’s Story.164 

XIV. The Bear Cave on Kitty Cobble.174 

. XV. An Unwilling Surrender.188 

XVI. God Does Answer Prayer.201 

XVII. Louie Says Farewell.211 

XVIII. Mike’s Foul Trade.219 

XIX. The Silver Brook Camp.. .230 

XX. A Knock at the Door.242 

XXI. Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck.254 

XXII. An Adirondack Christmas.269 

XXIII. Louie Slips Out in the Night.283 

XXIV. Eight Prevails.291 

XXV. Finding the Light.305 





























I 


' (’ 

(. 

■ 




THE MYSTERY 
OF KUN-JA-MUCK CAVE 

CHAPTEEI 

DRIVEN TO THE WILDERNESS 

Hackneyed in business, wearied at the oar, 

Which thousands, once fast chained to quit no more. 

The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade. 

Pant for the refuge of some rural shade. 

For regions where, in spite of sin and woe. 

Traces of Eden are still seen below. 

Where mountain, river, forest, field and grove, 

Eemind him of his Maker’s power and love. 

To them the deep recess of dusky groves. 

Or forest where the deer securely roves. 

The fall of waters, and the song of birds. 

And hills that echo to the distant herds. 

Are luxuries excelling all the glare 

The world can boast, and her chief favourites share. 

T he train on the Fonda, Johnstown and 
Grioversville Eailroad was marked up on 
time. Only two taxis were at the North- 
ville station. They had come more from habit 
than from expectation of business. The tourist 
season had not yet begun, but the breaking 
forth of the spring foliage and early flowers 
which lined the roadways told of the rapidly 
approaching days when thousands of weary 


2 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-mijck Cave 


people would leave the cities to seek refresh¬ 
ment and new life in the hills. 

‘^Hope I get some business on this here 
train,’’ said a long, lank driver to the other. 
Seated on a wobbly baggage truck with their 
backs to the station wall, both men appeared 
eager for new arrivals. 

^‘Need it bad,” continued the speaker. 
‘‘Been a long, hard vdnter, and I got behind 
with the store bill, and I owe the doctor a lot 
besides.” 

“Well, y’ain’t worryin’ much ’bout it, be 
yuh, JoeV’ 

“Oh, no, not ’xackly,” replied Joe. “Just 
like t’ keep things even, or ’bout so. Th’ 
woman had th’ hardest end o’ the job, lookin’ 
after the kids when they was sick. First ’twas 
th’ measles, then th’ ’hoop’n cough. ’Course 
they all had t’ have it. When yuh git a family 
big’s mine. Chunky, y’ll have somethin’ t’ 
think about.” 

The one called Chunky was as fat and round 
as Joe was tall and thin; and, while the two 
were close friends during the winter, in the 
summer they became keen rivals, for both de¬ 
pended largely on the tourist traffic for their 
livelihood. 

“Now don’t talk t’ me like that. Slim,” re¬ 
torted Chunky, using the other’s nickname as 
he always did when somewhat angered. “You 
know right well I have t’ take care o’ mother, 



Driven to the Wilderness 


3 


and my sister and her kid. And the damn kid’s 
father, too,” in a tone of disgust. ‘^Besides all 
that, didn’t I help other f am’lies? Gruess you 
ain’t got nothin’ on me. Slim Joe!” 

<<There y’ go, gittin’ all riled up,” remon¬ 
strated Joe. Every time I remind yuh y’re 
an old bach with nobody t’ lean on-” 

‘‘Waal,” drawled the other, his contempt 
and wrath not in the least abated, “I don’t 
know’s I want anybody t’ lean on. I’d ruther 
lean on myself than be slim’s a fence rail, an’ 
lean on a poor, hard-workin’ wife with a half 
dozen kids hanging on her skirts.” 

The station agent lazily rose from the box 
upon which he had been sitting. 

“Here she comes,” he announced. “Jest 
pullin’ out o’ Sacandaga Park.” 

Apparently the good-natured man thought 
the argument had become a little too personal. 
“See who can scoop th’ business,” he sug¬ 
gested. “Who gits th’ first haul from some 
city yap?” 

In a moment the train pulled in, if a train 
it could have been called. One car, driven 
by a gasoline motor, sufficed for engine, bag¬ 
gage, passenger car and smoker. The two 
rivals jostled each other for conspicuous stand¬ 
ing space, calling out anxiously to the few 
passengers who alighted. 

“Take yuh anywhere—^right here waitin’ fer 
yuh—” 




4 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


Both drivers had their eyes fixed intently 
on a young man, the only ‘^city yap’’ among 
the arrivals. 

‘M’ll hook him,” came from Chunky in a 
hoarse whisper as the stranger approached. 

Joe made no reply, but kept up his chatter. 

^‘Come this way. Mister, an’ I’ll haul y’ 
anywhere. Won’t talk y’ to death, nuther,” 
added Slim Joe after scanning the stranger’s 
face more closely. 

Byron Cray heard and saw both men. After 
a moment of hesitation he turned to Joe, with 
a curt nod. 

‘Won’ll do,” he said. “I’m rather tired, 
and am hunting for a quiet place and some 
one who is not disposed to talk me to death.” 

Joe took the stranger’s bag, turned a brief 
but triumphant smile upon his rival, and led 
the way to his car. 

“Where to?” he queried. 

“I guess that is important,” acknowledged 
the young man. ‘ ‘ I am headed for Lake Pleas¬ 
ant for to-night. I don’t know where I will 
land after that. Just on my way to the woods 
—anywhere to be out of doors and away— 
from city life.” 

“I get y’, sir. Know all ’bout it. Seen 
many a one like yuh before. Y’ll be a new man 
when y’ve been in th’ hills a spell.” 

“Oh, I don’t care much,” said the stranger 
in a tone of indifference. “I’m not particu- 



Dkiven to the Wilderness 


5 


larly fond of the wilderness, at least for a 
twelve months’ stay. Case of nerves, yon 
know. The doctor said I must remain in the 
woods for a year or become a wreck for life.” 

As he spoke a gloom of bitterness crossed 
Gray’s face. The man looked weary of life, 
almost haggard. Pausing a moment as he 
mentally reviewed the life he had just left, the 
ceaseless struggle, the strain and stress which 
never abated. Gray gave to the taxi driver some 
indication of what the feverish activity and 
fierce commercial rivalry of our modern city 
life may do for a man. Gray’s face was pale, 
and at times his lips twitched with a slight, 
nervous movement. He was by no means an 
invalid. On the contrary, his physical strength 
had been impaired far less than his paleness 
might have indicated. Gray’s nerves were rag¬ 
ged, frayed almost to the breaking point, but 
his every motion evidenced a reserve of latent 
energy. It was this energy which had nearly 
been his undoing, for his physician had de¬ 
clared that Gray’s physical energy was driv¬ 
ing him steadily to a mental collapse. 

So Gray had come to the Great North 
Woods, unwillingly and indifferently. Those 
woods and mountains, so near the city and yet 
so remote from its ever-throbbing turmoil, held 
no fascination for him as he stood on the sta¬ 
tion platform. His mood was, at the moment, 
one of discouragement, overwhelmed as he was 



6 


The Mysteky of Khh-ja-muck Cave 


with the life he had left. His wealth had 
brought him no great happiness. Could this 
wilderness cure his physical weakness and 
mental apathy? 

Disinterestedly he asked if there were a 
place to eat nearby. 

<<There’s a boardin’ house an’ a lunch room, 
but none of ’em’s fit t’ eat in,” said Slim Joe. 
‘^S’pose we drive ’round by way o’ my house 
if yer hungry—my Jane’ll cook us somethin’ 
warm an’ it won’t be like rest’runt grub. I 
c’n tell her where I’m goin’, too.” 

‘‘Just as you say,’^ agreed Gray. “Time is 
nothing to me.” 

They drove in silence through a sandy side 
street until Joe stopped in front of an un¬ 
painted cottage, a very humble place, and 
badly in need of repair. Joe led the way up 
the path. Gray following with a scarcely 
noticeable air of distaste. They had not gone 
far when the door opened and a motherly- 
looking woman, completely covered by a big, 
old-fashioned apron, appeared on the thresh¬ 
old. Four excited children quickly crowded 
past her and rushed down the path. 

“That’s her—^an’ the kids,” said Joe 
proudly. “Gosh, they’re a great bunch,” he 
added, with a smile that invited the stranger’s 
approval of the romping offspring. 

Two boys clung to Joe’s legs, clamoring for a 
ride, while the two girls, with smoothly combed 



Deiven to the Wildekness 


7 


hair parted in the middle, quiet and shy in 
the presence of the stranger, took hold of their 
father’s hands. The youngest child, held in the 
mother’s arms, squealed with delight. 

‘^That’s the way they allers carry on,” Jane 
apologized, addressing the stranger without 
waiting for an introduction. ‘‘If he’d come 
home ten times a day they’d all have t’ go 
through the same thing.” 

Joe bestowed a fond look upon his wife, and 
explained Gray’s presence. 

“We’re goin’ t’ Orendaga, Jane. Must 
hurry, an’ this gentleman ’s mighty hungry. 
Anythin’ in the house t’ eat"?” 

“I can git some dinner for you men pretty 
quick, ’ ’ she replied. “ It’s cookin ’ this minute. 
Me an’ the children’ll wait for ours ’til yer 
gone, ’cause they eat awful slow.” 

“Do eat with us,” urged Gray. “I’m in no 
great hurry, and am fond of children. I’d like 
to have them near.” 

He felt a change in his attitude toward these 
homely people. They were so different from 
the people with whom he usually mingled. 
Dimly Gray knew that they had something un¬ 
known to the city dweller, a calm acceptance of 
life as it was, without worry or heated struggle 
for great wealth. He began to wish to under¬ 
stand them better. 

Joe and his wife disappeared into the kitch- 



8 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-mtjck Cave 


en, and Gray, quite by accident, overheard 
a scrap of conversation. 

^‘How much is he goin’ to give yon for mak- 
in’the tripr’ 

‘‘DonT know—ain’t asked my price.” 

‘^Be easy on him, Joe—I know we need it, 
but be reasonable. We’ll catch up on our bills 
’fore th’ summer ends.” 

What strange people were these, thought 
Gray. Their lack of avarice was something 
new to him. Never before had he known of 
people who talked as the two he had just over¬ 
heard. 

In order not to hear more of their conversa¬ 
tion, Gray took the smaller girl by the hand 
and began to question her. She seemed very 
willing to talk, and after volunteering the in¬ 
formation that she was in the fourth grade at 
school, and that her name was Nellie, asked 
Gray if he were going to stay a long time at 
their house. 

He shook his head. ‘^No, Nellie, I’m going 
away, but sometime I may come back.” 

^‘Oh, I hope so,” she said, thoughtfully. 

This old-fashioned, frank-eyed child, with 
her shy talk, kindled a warmth of affection 
within Gray’s discouraged soul, and gave him 
a taste of simplicity and honesty that cheered 
his heart. Like all big-souled Americans, his 
first impulse was to give. Reaching into his 
pocket, he took out a bill, folded it tightly, and 



Deiven to the Wildekhess 


9 


placed it in Nellie’s hand, pressing her fin¬ 
gers around it. 

Share that with the other children when I 
have gone,” he whispered. “Remember,” he 
cautioned in a playful tone, at the same time 
shaking his finger at her, “don’t let anybody 
see it until I have gone, away out of sight.” 

She nodded, her big gray eyes sparkling 
with delight. Gray was surprised to find that 
he had surrendered to such a sentimental bit 
of foolishness. 

The simple meal that Jane made ready was 
very attractive to Gray. It was plain, well 
cooked, and appetizing; the fragrance which 
hung over the table in a cloud of steam lured 
Gray to an unusual heartiness. Occasionally 
during the meal he exchanged a knowing smile 
with Nellie, who kept one hand carefully under 
the table. 

After eating, the two men said farewell to 
the rest of the family and were soon on the 
road to Orendaga. As they journeyed north¬ 
ward over the state road which was known as 
the southern entrance to the Adirondack Park, 
fiickerings of bright color among the trees told 
Gray that the birds were rapidly returning 
from the south lands. The air was balmy, 
sweetened with the fragrance of balsam and 
pine. Standing out against the green, the sup¬ 
ple shafts of white birch seemed bold, yet beau¬ 
tiful, in the sunlight; maples were shooting 



10 


The Mysteey of Ktjh-ja-mijce: Cave 


forth their foliage of a lighter green; and the 
flowers, in silent eloquence, spoke most sweetly 
all along the way* 

Higher and higher wound the road, now 
through shallow valley, now beside the bab¬ 
bling and glistening Sacandaga, climbing, ever 
climbing, to the heights beyond. Here and 
there small lakes sparkled in the bright sim- 
light. Mountain ranges, clothed with the rich¬ 
est greens, stretched away to be lost in a bluish 
dimness on the far-distant horizon. 

G-ray began to wonder what the new life was 
to have in store for him. He already realized 
that it would be totally unlike anything he 
had ever experienced. The old family doctor 
nad ordered him to the Adirondacks, suggest¬ 
ing Lake Pleasant in the memory of a hunt¬ 
ing trip in that region some years before. Gray 
needed to follow the simple life, said the phy¬ 
sician, keeping regular hours with plenty of 
sleep, away from the rush, excitement and 
worry of New York. Gray was forbidden to 
return to the city for a year. In the begin¬ 
ning he had rebelled, asking for Switzerland 
or some of the fashionable European watering 
places. But the old doctor had prescribed; and 
while the pill was bitter to Gray at first, it 
had to be taken. 

He had passed within a few miles of the 
Adirondacks many times on various motor 
trips from the city, but had never thought it 




Driven to the Wilderness 


11 


worth while to stop in the Great North Woods. 
The pure, crisp mountain air encouraged him 
to square his shoulders and breathe deeply. 
Gray noted with gratitude that the driver was 
keeping his promise not to talk his passenger 
to death. Not until they had passed through 
the old covered bridge just beyond the village 
of Wells did Slim Joe venture a word, and then 
he spoke only in laconic scraps. 

In a little while Joe, anticipating Gray’s 
encouragement, began to be more loquacious, 
sketching a few of the historical happenings 
in the vicinity of Elbow Creek, along which 
their car was then passing. Slim Joe was an 
enthusiastic Baedecker of the region. 

“This is the old Injun trail,” he explained. 
“It leads down from their clearin’s south of 
Injun Lake an’ west of Whittaker. You 
mightn’t b’lieve it, but these here hills was 
once alive with ’em. There was trails every¬ 
where, most’s many as there is deer runways.” 

“What tribes were they?” asked Gray, as¬ 
suming an interest that seemed to be expected 
of him. 

“Don’t jest recall ’em all. I rec’lect my 
gran’pap talkin’ ’bout the Iroquois an’ the Al- 
gonquins an’ the other tribes that swarmed 
’round here, first cornin’ from the south an’ 
then from the north. ’Twas this-a-way—the 
Montagnais Injuns come all the way from the 
lower St. Lawrence. Their food ’d give out 



12 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muck Cave 


sometimes—I mean their packs o’ dried fish 
an’ ven’son—^an’ then they’d have to eat the 
buds an’ bark off ’n the trees. So their enemies 
called ’em the ‘tree-eaters’ which is what the 
word ‘ Adirondacks’ means in their own tongue. 
Funny things, names, ain’t they? The Onei- 
das an’ Onondagas was longest in this here 
region, an’ it was one o’ them tribes as named 
Orendaga. Means ‘Land of Enchantment.’ 
Everybody says it’s named right—I ain’t never 
seen none that didn’t.” 

Slim Joe bent upon Cray a look seeking con¬ 
firmation of his own opinion of the region, but 
the car’s other passenger vouchsafed only a 
disinterested nod which effectively cooled Joe’s 
enthusiasm for some distance. 

Higher up they skirted Charlie and Cilman 
Lakes, which Slim Joe declared were alive with 
bullheads and pickerel. Up, up they climbed, 
until the driver announced that they had 
reached the highest point on the ridge, two 
thousand feet above sea level. 

“Cot to let her cool,” said Joe, “now that 
we’re on top. They don’t all get up this far 
—usually get stuck on that last grade, but this 
tub ain’t failed me once since I bought ’er.” 

Cray got out of the car. Looking out over 
the valley at his feet, he saw the soft greens 
of the nearby forest. Slightly, very slightly 
—almost imperceptibly—he began to grasp the 
romance suggested in the color of the distant 



Driven to the Wilderness 


13 


Mils. Lake Pleasant, sparkling tMongh the 
evergreens, lay as peacefully as a star in the 
sky at night. 

‘‘Beautiful,’’ said Gray softly, more to him¬ 
self than to his companion. ‘ ‘ I never imagined 
the Adirondacks could be as beautiful as this.” 

“That’s the Bearfoot Inn,” interrupted Joe, 
pointing to a building with wide porches, pic¬ 
turesquely located on a hill amid the pines, 
some distance below the ridge on which the 
two men were standing. “ You c’n git’s meals 
down thar’s anywhere in these mountains. I’ve 
done it piles o’ times, an’ I know what I’m 
talking about. Uncle David owns it, but Mat- 
tie runs it, an’ she, let me tell you, is the smart¬ 
est gal in the hills, ’ceptin’ my Jane.” 

Gray smiled with an amused curl at the 
corners of his lips at Joe’s testimonial. 

“Evidently a mutual admiration society in 
these hills,” he thought to himself. “The Inn 
does look inviting,” he said aloud, without 
much enthusiasm, however. 

After Joe had started the “tub” again a 
silence prevailed for some distance. But Slim 
Joe found himself unable to remain speech¬ 
less for long. 

“Goin’ after trout, are yuh?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose so. Anything to be out 
in the open with something to keep me busy.” 

“Well, y’ll keep busy all right; there’s pile^ 
to do up here, an’ y’ll find it,” prophesied the 



14 


The Mysteky of Kijn-ja-mtjce: Cave 


driver. “You git a good guide, go back into 
the woods, an’ I’ll bet if yuh stay six.months 
yer folks won’t know yer an’ yuh won’t know 
yerself.” 

Gray continued to remain silent. 

“I’ll drive yuh up to Rob Stevens’ store 
up to the corners; that’s whar y’ll find the 
guides that ain’t workin’, an’ Rob c’n pick one 
of ’em out for yuh. Rob’ll fix up yer supplies, 
too.” 

“That sounds good,” Gray finally admitted. 
“Let’s drive up there.” 

Orendaga, into which the men were just 
driving, is in two parts, half on the lake shore 
and the rest at the Four Corners. The general 
stores, one of which harbored the usual country 
post office, a blacksmith’s shop, and a little 
white church located on rising ground so that 
it could be seen from every direction, made 
up the small community. A number of neat, 
plain frame dwellings, clustered about the 
stores and church, housed the village’s few in¬ 
habitants. The Bearfoot Inn guarded the 
south entrance to Orendaga, overlooking the 
lake and giving a free view of the surrounding 
mountains. 

“That there road,” observed Joe, “goes up 
into th’ West Canada lake country. After yuh 
cross that mountain yuh’ll git right into the 
midst o’ the wilderness. It’s either over there 
or up the Kun-ja-muck whar yuh’ll git yer 



Driven to the Wilderness 


15 


health agin. IVe seen a heap o’ men come np 
here, dyin’ with city fever, nerves, a punctured 
heart, or somethin’. They thought they know’d 
a pile, but they was like fools a-chasin’ butter¬ 
flies, if yuh’ll ’scuse my sayin’ so. TJs Adiron¬ 
dack folks is coarse an’ rough, but we live all 
right. We ain’t rich, but we got good appetites. 
Our clo’es ain’t much, anythin’ to cover our 
hides, an’ the home we like best is a shanty in 
the woods.” 

He paused and looked at Gray. 

guess you’ll git used to it,” he concluded. 
‘‘Most of ’em do.” 

By this time they had reached Bob Stev¬ 
ens’ store. Joe drove the car alongside a little 
white building and stopped. 

“This here’s the place I told yuh ’bout,” he 
said. “Come inside an’ I’ll ask Rob to flt yuh 
out.” 

It was a typical country store. Groceries, 
dry goods, boots and shoes, drugs and notions 
lined the unpainted board shelves. An arch 
which led to an adjoining room served as the 
ice-cream parlor, and across from it was the 
candy counter. Spruce gum, postal cards and 
balsam pillows were prominently displayed. 

The afternoon was growing very cool, almost 
sharp. Several men of the village, among them 
a guide or two, were sitting around the big 
stove talking as they had been wont to do in 
the cold months of winter. 



16 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-mijck Cave 


''Hello, Rob!’’ called Joe to the storekeeper, 
who was at the moment busy. "Here’s a man 
wants to see yah when yer through with that 
customer. ’ ’ 

Before Gray had had time to do more than 
give a sweeping glance around the store, 
Stevens approached. 

"My name is Gray,” he said as he took 
Stevens’ outstretched hand. "I am here for a 
few months’ vacation, and I understand you 
can find me a guide and furnish me with sup¬ 
plies. I don’t care when I go, where I go, or 
how long I stay.” 

Stevens laughed good-naturedly. 

"I guess we can arrange things all right for 
you, Mr. Gray,” he said. "You’ll like it here 
after you get the soft spots knocked off and 
the hard ones put on. You’d better put up at 
the Bearfoot Inn to-night; they’ll make you 
comfortable down there.” 

With a hurried excuse, Stevens turned away 
to serve a waiting customer, leaving Gray to 
look about him. The guides who were seated 
around the stove had apparently not seen him 
enter, and gave no evidences of interest in the 
conversation between him and Stevens. They 
were discussing something with considerable 
animation, and Gray, after studying them a 
moment from a distance, began to wonder 
which one Stevens would select for him as a 
guide. There was a sudden lull in the talk. 




Driven to the Wilderness 


17 


then a question was slowly asked by one of the 
guides. 

‘‘What d’yuh think of him, Blake?’’ 

For a moment Gray thought the question 
referred to himself, and he flushed slightly, 
hardly knowing how to take it. In the silence 
that followed Gray slowly realized that the 
men were not talking about him, as no eye was 
raised to his embarrassed face. Then the man 
called Blake, a tall, broad-shouldered, keen¬ 
looking lumberjack and guide, made answer. 

“He’s a strange bein’, but anybody livin’ 
in sech a myster’ous place ’ud nat’rally be 
called a hermit, even if he wa’n’t one. I would¬ 
n’t b’lieve all I heard ’bout him, an’ it ain’t 
fair t’ think s’piciously o’ them as comes inf 
th’ woods an’ minds their own business.” 

There was something magnetic, something 
compelling in Blake’s personality—a sincerity 
and manly good sense that attracted Gray im¬ 
mediately. He felt that underneath Blake’s 
quiet words lay a mystery, a problem which 
had, apparently, been the chief topic for dis¬ 
cussion at the store for a long time. 

Gray wondered just who this “strange be¬ 
ing” was, where he had come from, what he 
was doing in the woods, and, more especially, 
why he should be a mystery to these guides 
and woodsmen who knew every foot of the 
country and all its inhabitants for miles 
around. 



18 


The Mysteky of Kijn-ja-muck: Cave 


Gray was standing in deep thought. The 
mysterious man of the woods had gripped his 
imagination. Joe spoke but Gray did not hear. 
The di*wer then touched his arm. 

‘‘I’ll show yuh t’ th’ Bearfoot Inn an’ then 
push on t’ Northville,” he said. 

Gray followed, but his mind was held by the 
mysterious one of the Great North Woods. 



CHAPTER II 


THE GRIP OF THE OBENDAGA GUIDES 


I sought for Peace, but could not find; 

I sought it in the city, 

But they were of another mind,— 

The more’s the pity. 

I sought for Peace of country swain, 

But yet I could not find; 

So I, returning home again. 

Left Peace behind. 

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? said I:— 
Methought a voice was given, 

“Peace dwelt not here, long since did fly 
To God in heaven.” 

Thought I, this echo is but vain, 

To folly ’tis of kin; 

Anon, I heard it tell me plain, 

’Twas killed by sin. 

Then I believed the former voice. 

And rested well content; 

Lay down and slept, rose, did rejoice. 

And then to heaven went. 

Then I enquired for Peace, and found it true:— 

An heavenly plant it was, and sweetly grew. 


E NTERINGr the combined office and liv¬ 
ing room of the Bearf oot Inn, G-ray was 
welcomed by a cheerful blaze in the 
great stone fireplace which occupied one side 
of the room. He paused for a moment and 
looked about him, marvelling at what he saw. 

Rustic chairs of white and silver birch, 
placed beside rough tables of the same ma- 

19 


20 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


terial, gleamed in the fire light. On each side 
of the cobblestone chimney was a majestic 
deer head, while a red squirrel, sitting on its 
haunches with a nut in its paws, gazed stead¬ 
fastly at several other specimens of the tax¬ 
idermist’s art which were scattered about the 
room on shelves and tables. An open checker¬ 
board, suggestive of the good fellowship to be 
found among the rough woodsmen of the neigh¬ 
borhood, lay on a table near the window. 

Cray moved over to a large armchair of 
red cedar which faced the fire, and then sat 
there studying his surroundings. His eye fell 
on several balsam pillows which lay on the 
couch and he suddenly became aware of the 
subtle fragrance of the dried balsam needles, 
a fragrance which gave him a foretaste of what 
he might find in the heart of the woods. The 
beams over his head retained their bark, and 
had been preserved by creosote and varnish, 
thus bringing out the color and beauty of the 
different kinds of timber used. The walls were 
finished with rough pine boards half way to 
the ceiling. Above this wainscoting was a 
shelf running entirely aroimd the room, the 
wall above the shelf being covered with red 
burlap. The shelf itself did not contain the 
usual collection of china plates, vases and 
steins. On it were curios from the woods, and 
Indian relics picked up along the old military 
highway and about the now decaying forts. 



The Geip of the Oeendaga Guh)es 


21 


Several fungus growths of remarkable size and 
color were fastened to the wall at various spots, 
a hornets’ nest hung from one corner of the 
room, and a birds’ nest, still fastened to the 
branch of a tree, occupied another corner. 

Gray had travelled extensively. He had seen 
the beautiful, had been charmed by the old 
colonial or mission furniture of luxurious 
hotels. But, sitting before the fire in the Bear- 
foot Inn, he thought, and was surprised to find 
himself thinking, that his surroundings at the 
moment were the most unique, inexpensive, 
and interesting he had ever seen. The room 
was new, yet old; crude, yet wonderful. 

The new guest began to question where the 
host. Uncle David, of whom he had already 
been told, was. In a moment, however, his 
mind had unconsciously reverted to the scenes 
and happenings of the day. Warmed by the 
heat of the fire, his senses lulled into remi¬ 
niscence by the odor of the pine and balsam. 
Gray mentally reviewed his departure from 
the city, his arrival at Northville, Joe’s kind¬ 
ness and his delightful family. He saw again 
the hills, and a half-smile crossed his face as 
he remembered Joe’s words about the ^‘Land 
of Enchantment.” 

So intent was he upon his thoughts that he 
did not hear another person’s entrance into 
the room. Gray sat with his eyes fixed dream¬ 
ily on the fire, until roused by a voice. 



22 


The Mystery of Kxjn-ja-mijck: Cave 


‘^Good evening, sir. I hope you are com¬ 
fortable, and that you have made yourself at 
home.” 

Gray started, raising his eyes to the speaker 
quickly. 

‘‘I am very much at home,” he stammered. 
^‘The beauty and restfuhiess of this room 
would quiet the nerves of any worn-out 
person.” 

‘^Glad to hear you say so,” returned the 
other. ‘^That is just what the Bearfoot Inn 
is here to do. It has given shelter to many 
a discouraged man, and hundreds who have 
found the journey of life hard have come here 
to learn the lessons that only the woods and 
hills can teach.” 

Gray gave the speaker an intent look. 

‘‘This must be Uncle David,” he thought to 
himself. “He talks just as I would expect him 
to, after Joe’s description of him.” 

“Will you remain over night, sir?” asked 
Uncle David, having confirmed, by his S3unpa- 
thetic remarks, Gray’s conjecture as to his 
identity. 

“I should like to,” replied Gray, “if you 
have room for me.” 

“Number four is on the south side, gets the 
morning sun, and has a fireplace. Take it, 
sir, and use it as your own. Supper will be 
served at six o’clock. The Inn is well filled 
with guides and men from the cities, most of 



The Geip of the Oeendaga Guh>es 


23 


whom are preparing to go into the woods after 
trout. Our woodland streams are filled with 
fish, you know. If you’d like to learn more 
about this region before continuing your jour¬ 
ney, come into the Fishermen’s Room this eve¬ 
ning. The guides, who usually gather there 
after supper, will be glad to tell you all you 
wish to know.” 

That’s just what I want. I’m from the 
city, and this is my first visit to the Adiron- 
dacks. I’m frightfully ignorant as to the 
pleasures to be found here. My doctor told me 
that the Adirondack Park would be a good 
place to come to sleep and to get back the old 
time vigor.” 

Uncle David laughed heartily at Gray’s ref¬ 
erence to ‘^a good place to sleep.” 

^^You can sleep, my friend, to your heart’s 
content. After you are well rested you’ll find 
plenty to keep you busy, and here you will 
learn to live.” 

expected to die of loneliness, at least; 
so, fearing that I might become another Rip 
Van Winkle, I have already gotten some of my 
supplies and have inquired about a guide to 
take me into the West Canada lake region. 
This four-corner village and homelike Inn in¬ 
terest me, and it’s hard to say just how long 
I may want to stay around here.” 

Gray did not fully realize that the real tie 
binding him to the village was his interest in 





24 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


the mysterious being whom he had heard dis¬ 
cussed in Stevens’ store that afternoon. Every 
few minutes since his arrival at the InU, his 
mind had returned to the guides’ talk. He had 
not stopped to think about the matter deeply, 
but there was something about the story of the 
hermit, something elusive which appealed to 
Gray’s jaded senses. His tired and overworked 
mind grasped at this mystery as a relief from 
the thoughts of the restless, feverish life of 
which he had been in the midst no longer ago 
than yesterday. He had already half deter¬ 
mined to investigate the mystery further, and 
it was with this purpose that he announced his 
intention of remaining a little while longer at 
Orendaga. 

After an appetizing supper, of which Gray 
partook with a zest quite new to him, he went 
into the Fishermen’s Eoom where the guides 
were congregating for their evening smoke. 
This room, the men’s favorite retreat, was as 
original in its decorations as the one Gray had 
already seen. 

Fishing rods, pictures of record catches, and 
mounted specimens covered the walls. Here 
the guides talked and smoked, old ones telling 
younger and less experienced woodsmen stories 
of the forest. Guide, lumberjack, woodsman 
—the terms are synonymous when applied to 
these men who had followed the woods, hunt¬ 
ing, trapping, felling trees and lumbering on 



The Geip of the Orendaga Guides 


25 


the rivers or at the mills. The knowledge of 
the country picked up in this way made them 
the best of guides, and every last man of them 
could cook as wholesome and tasty a meal as 
the most accomplished chef. 

Their conversation opened with a few trivial 
remarks concerning the happenings of the day. 
Gray sat quietly at one side of the room, 
eagerly listening for some further reference 
to the man of mystery. Gradually the talk 
turned on politics and world affairs. Gray be¬ 
ing drawn into the discussion when several 
questions were asked him by one or two of the 
men he had met at the supper table. He spoke 
naturally, quietly, but with an air of knowledge 
of what he was talking about. He soon realized 
that these men had no very deep interest in 
world problems or politics, but that their real 
interest was in the peacefulness and pleasure 
of the wilderness, away from the perplexities 
which overshadowed city life. They were ready 
to do their share for the state and nation, but 
their love for the hills and the care-free, out¬ 
door life made them happy and contented amid 
the Adirondack wilds. 

Soon the men lapsed into the lore of the 
woods, the one topic of which they never tired 
and to which they always turned sooner or later. 
Gray once more became the silent listener, as 
the experiences which he heard related were 
entirely new to him. Hunting and fishing 



26 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mhck Cave 


stories followed one upon another, but the 
story for which Gray had been hoping failed 
to materialize. He had almost decided to go 
to bed, when his attention was caught by a 
young guide named Milt Boyd, who spoke up 
for the first time during the evening. 

‘‘You c’n talk ’bout your catches of fish an’ 
bags of game, but as Cal was sayin’ in the store 
this afternoon, the biggest thing we can catch 
’roimd here is that man of the Kun-ja-muck 
Cave.” 

Gray leaned a little forward, his whole body 
tingling with excitement. He was anxious to 
hear and to remember every word spoken, for 
he realized that this was his opportunity to 
ask questions of the guides concerning the man 
of whom so little was known. As they began 
to warm up to the story of the mystery. Gray 
decided to keep silent until he had heard all 
they had to say about the matter. 

Isaiah Pikes, a middle-aged man and one of 
the best guides of the Orendaga region, re¬ 
plied to Boyd. 

“You’re right. Milt. That feller’s been in 
this region ten years, an’ there ain’t one of us 
as has ever seen him or as knows anythin’ ’bout 
him, except that he lives in or near the Kim- 
ja-muck Cave. There’s only one way to get 
him—use the right kind of bait an’ keep after 
him ’til he’s landed. There ain’t a fish in any 
lake or river ’round these parts that us guides 



The Grip oe the Orendaga Guides 


27 


can’t catch. We know all their tricks an’ what 
they like best. Same with our guns—every 
last one’s got a different kick hut we c’n man¬ 
age to hit the mark with ’em every time. What 
we’ve got to do is to study the habits of that 
mysterious man an’ not let him slip through 
our fingers any longer. We don’t need to be 
told that he’s shrewd an’ cautious, an’ fieeter 
’n a deer. He knows the woods an’ caves better 
’n any of us who’re born woodsmen.” 

‘‘Them’s jest the reasons why I think we’d 
better make his acquaintance,” observed Milt 
with a grin. “He c’n teach us a thing or two, 
even though we be Orendaga guides. Why 
should we fellers who know the woods give him 
up^ I say let’s have him at any cost.” 

Charlie Miller, another of the guides who 
had been an interested listener, broke into the 
conversation with, “I’ve gone up and down th’ 
Kun-ja-muck for five years, fr’m th’ Oregon 
country t’ th’ Sacandaga, an’ fr’m th’ Lewey 
Lake road t’ Fox Lair, but I’ve never seen 
that man or heard a sound anywhere t’ make 
me think he was near.” 

Turning to Harold Randall, his companion 
of many a hunting expedition, Charlie con¬ 
tinued, “You remember, Harold, how we went 
up t’ that cave two years ago an’ found a fire 
burnin’?” Again facing the circle of woods¬ 
men, he went on, “We paddled in quiet-like, 
an’ left the canoe at Long Point. We’d seen 



28 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mhck Cave 


smoke curlin’ up from the hillside as we turned 
the big bend, an’ we knew it was from the cave 
or nearby. Didn’t make no noise, an’ thought 
sure we could surprise him, but when we got 
up to the fire there wa’n’t a soul anywhere 
’round. We kept the fire goin’ but he didn’t 
come back, an’ after three hours o’ waitin’ we 
slid out.” 

“Well, we’re pretty sure he’s made the cave 
his home fer th’ last three years or so,” broke 
in Cal Wilks, one of the group who were listen¬ 
ing attentively to Milt and Charlie. 

“I’d like to see anybody git within shot of 
him,” replied Harold Randall. 

Stevens, the storekeeper, who had dropped 
in to have a smoke with the boys after putting 
up the shutters for the night, then gave his 
opinion of the mysterious dweller in Kun-ja- 
muck Cave. “We all know this strange bein’ 
exists. The things we’ve found up at the cave 
show that he sleeps there once in a while, an’ 
eats there sometimes. Looks like he had a 
companion, too, ’cause there’s always two 
bunks all made up. He gets his supplies ’thout 
visitin’ th’ village, so he must have some way 
of conummication with the outside world that 
we don’t know ’bout.” 

“Men,” interrupted Cal Wilks, “what do 
you think of Louie Lament, the trapper that 
lives ’bout six miles north of the cave ? Louie 
may be the friend of this strange man—^maybe 



The Gkip of the Oeendaga GiiroES 


29 


he gets his supplies. You remember, don’t 
you, Stevens, how we tried to get the trapper 
to talk about this inhabitant of the Kun-ja- 
muck Cave? Louie used to come down with 
his furs, but he’d never say anything—just 
give that funny grunt of his, ‘Ugh,’ like an 
Injun. When Louie grunts like that he allers 
means ‘I know, but I won’t tell.’ ” 

“Well,” said Isaiah Pikes, “I wouldn’t be 
a bit surprised if Louie an’ that mysterious 
man had somethin’ t’ do with each other. 
Louie’s ’bout as mysterious as this other feller, 
though. When he come t’ these woods twenty 
years ago nobody saw him come, an’ we ain’t 
learned much ’bout him since. I, for one, can’t 
see why he stays buried in th’ woods except 
fer one visit t’ th’ village every year, ’bout the 
last o’ January, when he brings his furs in. 
It’s funny th’ way he acts on them visits, too. 
Sells his furs, buys his supplies an’ makes sure 
of everything he needs t’ last him th’ whole 
year. Then he spends every cent he has left 
fer whiskey, ’cept the money he gives t’ th’ 
kids in th’ village.” 

“He’s a queer man, all right,” said Stevens. 
“Generous, silent, best trapper I’ve ever seen. 
But he sure can drink an’ swear when th’ 
mood’s on him.” 

The guides sat back and laughed at their 
recollections of Louie’s strange behaviour on 
his annual visits to the village. 



30 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


‘‘Ain’t it a wonder th’ way Louie’s changed 
since he first come t’ th’ woods'?” asked Isaiah 
Pikes. “When he first come into town with 
his furs, many years ago, his face was hard as 
stone, and he looked more like an animal than 
a man. Us’d t’ drink to the limit, too, just 
like a beast. But lately, ’specially the last five 
years or so, he’s changed more ’n anybody I 
ever saw. He don’t seem to be so selfish an’ 
always tries to help other people, in his rough 
way, ’fore he helps himself. ’ ’ 

“Prob’ly he was born with that cravin’ fer 
whiskey,” said Rob Stevens, “an’ I’ve noticed, 
too, that he’s gittin’ over it little by little.” 

Rob paused for a moment to relight his pipe, 
then turned to Elmer Page. 

“How long’ve you been clerkin’ in our store, 
Elmer?” 

“ ’Bout twelve years.” 

“Ever notice any difference in the quantity 
o’ Louie’s orders?” 

“Sure,” Elmer replied. “You remember 
how we talked it over ’most five years ago after 
Louie went back into th’ woods. He brought 
in twice’s many furs that time as ever before, 
an’ bought twice ’s much stuff t’ take back 
with him, before goin’ on his usual spree. 
That was th’ first time we noticed a brighter 
look on his face. His clothes were in better con¬ 
dition, too, cleaner an’ neater, th’ patches was 
all sewed on straight an’ the buttons all on.” 



The Grip of the Orendaga Guides 


31 


^‘That proves Louie’s feedin’ somebody 
’sides himself,” said Isaiah. ‘‘Must be th’ 
man in th’ cave.” 

“Guess you’re right,” said Rob. “I do re¬ 
member th’ changes in Louie’s face an’ clothes, 
now that yuh mention ’em. Yuh know he 
always packs his load, fastens the canvas over 
it, an’ leaves his sled in my barn while he’s 
down to Mike’s Temperance Parlor drinkin’. 
Last few years I’ve noticed he always trembled 
’fore he starts fer the bootleg shop, an’ when 
he takes his first glass his hand shakes like a 
leaf.” 

Jack Blake, the woodsman who had caught 
Gray’s attention in Stevens’ store that after¬ 
noon, had sat quietly by the fire all the evening, 
listening to the conversation without taking 
any part in it. Gray had looked at him many 
times, sizing him up as the most intelligent man 
among those present. Blake had a strong, bold 
face, kindly eyes, a high forehead, and showed 
great mental as well as physical strength. He 
was known throughout the region as a master 
woodsman. He knew men, their strong points 
and their weak ones, but was a friend to all. 

He had been listening with considerable in¬ 
terest, at times watching the expression on the 
eager and anxious face of the newcomer. Gray. 
Blake now spoke for the first time, command¬ 
ing the respectful attention of everyone. 

“I’ve seen Louie on his drunken sprees year 



32 


The Mystery of Kihst-ja-muck: Cave 


after year, an’ I’ve noticed three things that’ve 
happened on his visits t’ Orendaga. He only 
gives way t’ his cravin’ once a year, on his 
trip t’ th’ village, ’cause he don’t take no liquor 
back with him. When he does start t’ drink, 
he clears th’ decks an’ lets everythin’ go—^lets 
go his grip on himself ’til his body can’t stand 
no more. An’ all th’ time he’s on his spree he 
don’t speak to a soul ’ceptin’ th’ kids he passes 
on their way t’ school. He even watches fer 
’em, an’ hands a nickel or a dime t’ each one 
of ’em. Sometimes he gives fifty cents or a 
dollar t’ th’ poorest kids. 

Louie acts kind o’ mean t’ us when he’s 
drunk, but anybody c’n see what his heart’s 
really like by watchin’ his kindness t’ them 
boys an’ girls. He don’t like t’ have older 
people see him when he gives that money away, 
but I’ve happened t’ see him a couple o’ times. 
An’ th’ las’ two years that Frenchman’s been 
a lot diff’rent. He’s been more int’rested in 
everybody, even if he ain’t stopped drinkin’ 
alt’gether. Th’ rough ’pearance o’ that man 
covers a beastly cravin’ an’ a tenderness an’ 
affection that’s near childlike.” 

‘‘D’yuh ever notice. Jack, there ain’t a child 
in th’ village, boy or girl, that’s afeared o’ 
him'?” asked one of the guides. 

‘Wep,” replied Blake, “I’ve seen more ’n 
one kid, even some o’ them that’s poorest, stop 
an’ give Louie some o’ th’ food out o’ their din- 




The Grip of the Oeexdaoa Grii>E« 


ner pails. Some of ^em needed th^ food their- 
seTs too.^^ 

‘‘IWe foUered him a few times/^ continued 
Blake, “after he^s spent all his money an^ 
started fer th^ woods agin. Early in th^ mom- 
in^ when there wa^n^t nobody else ^roxmd^ he’d 
slip out’n his room here in th’ Inn^ go out V 
my bam where his sled was, an’ start his jonr- 
ney int’ th’ hills alone. ’Twa’n’t no longer 
’go then las’ winter I helped him pull his load 
over th’ hill up yonder. I kind o’ feared that 
after drinkin’ fer five days straight he might 
be so numbed in his senses that he’d fall down 
’side th’trail, an’mebbefreezet’death. Waal, 
after we got over th’ hill I stopx)ed an’ looked 
at hi-m. I says ^Good-bye, Louie.’ He straight¬ 
ened up like a soldier, faced me fer a minute, 
an’ says slowlike, ‘Louie fool, beeg fooL Come 
r’ town no more. Louie ver’ beeg fooL’ Then 
he turned and plodded off through th’ snow 
an’ th’ dreary woods, back t’ th’ place he c-alled 
home.” 

Blake became silent for a moment, then 
rumed to Gray. 

“I hear yer up in this country fer a rest, 
t* go trout fehin’, an want t’ go up t’ th’ West 
Canada lake region.” 

“That was my intention when I arriTed here 
to-day,” replied Gray, ‘‘and I have already 
spoken to Mr. Stevens about a guide and sup¬ 
plies for my trip. As yet I have made no de- 



34 


The Mysteey of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


cision about a guide. Since hearing about this 
peculiar Prench-Canadian, Louie Lament, I 
have thought that he might be engaged for a 
few months.’’ 

“You see, I’m not in very good condition,” 
he went on, “and will need someone to do a 
large part of the hard work. I’d go consider¬ 
ably out of my way, and to almost any expense, 
to get Louie Lament as my guide.” 

The men were very much amused at Cray’s 
words, for their knowledge of Louie and his 
habits made the idea of his becoming a guide 
impossible. 

“ Yuh c’n go t’ Louie’s cabin, but he’ll never 
leave his traps an’ pets, in my opinion,” said 
Blake. “Some men git a better welcome’n 
others. Sometimes Louie’ll talk, an’ some¬ 
times he won’t say more ’n a couple o’ grunts.” 

Isaiah Pikes affirmed the truth of Blake’s 
statement, telling of several men who, in the 
past, had tried to buy Louie’s hospitality. 

‘ ‘ Twa ’n’t no use, though, ’ ’ he finished. “ Th ’ 
more them fellers offered, th’ less Louie liked 
’em.” 

Gray expressed a desire to know more about 
Louie’s character and habits, and instinctively 
turned to Blake for answer. 

“Waal,” said Blake, slowly, “Louie’ll look 
a stranger plumb in th’ face fer a minute, an’ 
then he’s either his friend, or he ain’t. There 
ain’t no trick’ry with Louie, an’ everybody 



The Gtkip of the Orendaga Guides 


35 


gits a square deal. That trapper’s got an in¬ 
stinct like an animal—either trusts yuh or he 
don’t, right off.” 

‘ ‘ Blake’s right, ’ ’ called out Rob. ‘ ‘ We can’t 
give yuh any idee o’ how t’ git next t’ Louie. 
He’ll take yuh on yer face value.” 

^^Do you think,” asked Gray, ^Hhat he’d 
come with me for a few weeks if I don’t ask 
too many questions?” 

‘‘No way o’ tollin’,” was the reply. “All 
yuh c’n do is to try it out. But Louie Lament’s 
worth all the attention any man’ll give him. 
So far there ain’t any of us that’s been able 
t’ help him, not even Uncle David.” 

“Does he live absolutely alone?” was Gray’s 
next question. 

“ ’Ceptin’ fer his pets. Got a tame deer, 
’coon, crow, an’ his dog, ’sides a few others.” 

“Includin’ th’ man o’ th’ Kun-ja-muck 
Cave,” added Cal Wilks. 

Isaiah Pikes chuckled at this, and said to 
Gray, with a smile, “ ’P yuh’ve come t’ hunt 
an’ fish, Mr. Gray, why not fish fer Louie 
Lament, an’ try t’ find out ’bout th’ myst’ry o’ 
th’ cave?” 

Jack Blake, who had been talking in a low 
voice with one or two other men, now rose and 
addressed Gray. 

“We’ll give yuh th’ secret grip o’ th’ Oren¬ 
daga guides, Mr. Gray, won’t we, boys, if yuh 
succeed in solvin’ this myst’ry fer us. We 


D 



36 


The Mystery of Ktin-ja-mijck Cave 


think maybe yah c^n do it, seein’ as all of as 
have failed, an’ if yah do yah’ll be one of as 
fer life. Ain’t that right, boys'?” 

A chorus of approbation greeted Blake’s 
proposal. These men, crade, in many ways, 
were yet warm-hearted, and never hesitated to 
admit to their closest friendship a stranger, 
once he had proved himself a real man. Gray 
had impressed them very favorably, and they 
were now eager to see what he woald do toward 
solving the Kan-ja-mack mystery. 

^^This, gentlemen,” said Gray, ^4s an honor 
I little deserve. I am a stranger to yoa, and 
to be admitted into the inner circle of the 
Orendaga guides is worth a hard struggle on 
my part. I fully realize that. I want to get 
to the very bottom of this mystery, but, as you 
see, I am not in much condition to undertake it 
and fear that my efforts may result in failure.” 

^^We’re with yuh, Mr. Gray, fr’m first t’ 
last,” said Blake, speaking slowly, as though 
measuring each word and sealing it with a 
solemn pledge. 

‘‘It’s a bargain, then,” replied Gray. “I 
am yours for service in behalf of Louie 
Lament, and to help you discover the mystery 
of Kun-ja-muck Cave.” 

Blake was the first to grasp Gray’s hand, 
every man present following. 

When he had shaken hands with all. Gray 
walked slowly to his room. He felt refreshed. 



The Gkep of the Orendaga Gun>ES 


37 


renewed. There was opened to him a new vista 
of life, something of which he had never be¬ 
fore dreamed, and he went to sleep with a 
feeling of contentment. 



CHAPTER III 


MATTIE O’NEIL OP THE BEARPOOT INN 

I saw a smile—to a poor man ’twas given, 

And he was old. 

The sun broke forth; I saw that smile in heaven 
Wrought into gold. 

Gold of such lustre never was vouchsafed to us; 

It made the very light of day more luminous. 

I saw a toiling woman sinking down, 

Footsore and cold. 

A soft hand covered her—the humble gown. 

Wrought into gold. 

Grew straight imperishable, and will be shown 
To smiling angels gathered 'round the judgment throne. 

Wrought into gold! We that pass down life’s hours 
So carelessly 

Might make the dusty path a path of flowers 
If we would try. 

Then every gentle deed we’ve done, or kind word given. 

Wrought into gold, would make us wondrous rich in heaven. 

T he following morning Gray awoke as the 
sun first gleamed in a shining golden mist 
through the pines and balsams clustered 
thickly about the Bearfoot Inn. He dressed 
slowly, getting into some old golf kn;ickers 
and a fiannel shirt; and, as he recalled the con¬ 
versation and pledge of the evening before, the 
whole thing seemed more like a dream than a 
reality. Such a simple and naive enthusiasm 

38 


Mattie O’Neil of the Bearfoot Inn 


39 


as Gray felt for his proposed undertaking did 
not seem quite natural to him. He wondered 
vaguely if he were a fool; yet, he was strangely 
content. 

It is almost incredible, but none the less true, 
that nervous tension, however high it may be, 
soon gives way to tranquillity before the wide 
quiet of the pine woods. One quickly becomes 
adjusted to the calmness of a country-side like 
Orendaga. Gray was very tired still, and knew 
a physical lassitude that kept from his mind 
any thoughts of setting out on his journey be¬ 
fore several days of rest. 

Standing at his window, hands plunged deep 
in his pockets, he aimlessly watched the birds 
flitting about from tree to tree. Soon he found 
himself whistling, calling to mind pleasing old 
tunes that he had not thought of for many 
years. The deep peace that hallowed the at¬ 
mosphere swept over him like a breath. 

After dressing, he went slowly down to the 
dining room of the Inn. The waitress, an at¬ 
tractive, bright-looking girl whom' he had not 
seen the evening before, greeted him with a 
friendly smile and a cheery ‘^Good morning!” 
There was a latent merriment in her eyes and a 
re fin ed dignity of manner about her as she 
set before him a tempting platter of fragrant 
ham, surrounded by eggs, the yolks of which 
lay as great golden jewels in white settings. 

‘‘My appetite has grown enormously, for 


D 



40 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-muok: Cave 


only one day in the woods; I am quite sur¬ 
prised,” he said. 

‘‘But you’re not yet in the woods,” retorted 
the young woman. “Orendaga is a village, 
and the Bearfoot Inn is at the very heart of 
civilization.” 

Gray smiled at her enthusiasm. 

“You, no doubt, are better informed than 
I,” he said, “so I shall sit corrected.” 

She gave him a quick look before speaking 
again. 

“Go into West Canada Lake or the Brook 
Trout region,” said she, “or along the Indian 
River—^then you can talk about the woods. In 
there, or up the Kun-ja-muck, you’ll find a 
real appetite. What you now have is only a 
symptom.” 

“Don’t say that. Miss-” 

She stood still and smiled. 

“Would you feel more at home if I told you 
my name?” she queried. 

“It’s the only thing that is lacking,” he 
laughingly responded. 

“My name is O’Neil,” said the girl, “but 
you may call me simply Mattie. ‘Mattie of the 
Bearfoot Inn’ is what most of the woodsmen 
call me.” 

There was nothing in her manner that be¬ 
trayed a desire for familiarity. Hers was an 
open frankness and wholesome good-will. The 
fact that Mattie O’Neil was a waitress was 



Mattie O’Neil of the Bearpoot Inn 


41 


not emphasized in Gray’s mind. It seemed 
quite a matter of course that they should con¬ 
verse while they were alone in the room. All 
the guides and other guests of the Inn had fin¬ 
ished breakfast before Gray came down. 

^‘The man who drove me up here yesterday 
spoke of you,” replied Gray. ‘^In fact, you 
were the climax of his introductions from the 
top of Inspiration Point. He also told me of 
your hospitality, and I am very certain he 
imder-rated it.” 

Mattie fiushed prettily, replying, wish 
it were possible for us to live up to Joe’s intro¬ 
ductions, Mr. Gray, but he is very apt to be 
extravagant in his praise.” 

On leaving the table Gray laid, mechanically 
enough, a fee beside his plate. He sauntered 
over to the fireplace, and while his back was 
turned to Mattie O’Neil, he heard her call his 
name. He looked over his shoulder, and saw 
that she was standing at his table. 

‘‘You have forgotten something,” she said, 
picking up the money and walking toward him, 
with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. 

Byron Gray felt very much embarrassed. “I 
—I left—^that, as a tip, you know,” he ex¬ 
plained lamely. Could it be possible, he won¬ 
dered, that she had never received any before 
this? “In New York—” he began to add. 

“But you are not in New York now,” re¬ 
minded Mattie, firmly and gave him the coin. 



42 


The Mysteky of Khh-ja-muck Cave 


told you, Mr. Gray, that Orendaga is the 
heart of civilization. We do not receive tips 
here. The Bearfoot Inn is not a charitable 
organization, and I—am not—a beggar.’’ 

“I shall keep this,” said Gray quietly, ‘‘as 
a curiosity. I have travelled many miles, but 
never before have I seen a tip refused.” 

“It is a degrading custom,” asserted Mat- 
tie O’Neil, “and has no foundation worth 
while. The giver gives for vanity, or social 
pressure,—and to the receiver—it is a debasing 
charity, Mr. Gray.” 

The quiet firmness of the girl impressed him. 
He wondered if she had read Carlyle. He 
studied her anew with a random glance, and 
saw in her face a strength and magnificence 
he had noticed in portraits of wonderful 
Colonial women, guiding infiuences of our 
pioneer days, whose subtle courage, though 
unchronicled, has been the inspiration of 
patriot and soldier. “I agree with you,” he 
said, “but we do it as we do many things— 
through ‘social pressure.’ ” With a quaint 
gesture, she left him, disappearing into the 
kitchen. 

Gray wandered out to the wide porches, fac¬ 
ing westward, and seated himself on one of the 
long wooden benches. Lake Pleasant lay rip¬ 
pling in the sunlight, its wavelets refracting 
brilliant patches of sheer radiance. Occasion¬ 
ally a fish would jump above the surface of the 



Mattie O ’Neil of the Bearfoot Inn 


43 


lake, attracting sudden attention because of 
its flash and the swish of its return to the 
water. 

A dreamy gared of dreamy mountains lay 
beyond, rising behind the dark line of ever¬ 
greens marking the water’s edge, and fading 
into the mists of the horizon. A blending of 
blue and gold and whiteness seemed to cast 
about these hills a mystic loveliness, delicate 
and haunting. Here, Gray reflected, was no 
such rugged, colossal moulding as in the 
Rockies, or majesty such as cloaked the Alps 
with their glaciers and snows,—^but rather a 
tender charm prevailed with the misting of 
lapis lazuli and the amber light from the 
heavens. 

An island lay midway of the lake, its spruces 
and pines giving it the aspect of some low- 
towered, heavily buttressed cathedral, its deep 
and shadowy greens silhouetted against the 
turquoise of Turtle Mountain. Rising from the 
lake, which stretched for miles, a wide silver 
floor, it stirred the fancy to poetic and idyllic 
imagining, serene and peaceful. Now and then 
a cloud would form, and would float away, rest¬ 
ing from time to time amid the evergreens of 
a mountain-side. 

Gray rose lazily and descended the steps 
leading out upon the wide sand beach that 
stretched along the east shore of the lake. He 
was whistling, without being conscious of it, 



44 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


Nevin^s “Narcissus,” and as he ploughed along 
through sand up to his ankles, he felt singu¬ 
larly at peace with the world, and oddly, bliss¬ 
fully at ease. How strange that he had not 
been here before! It was less than a day’s 
journey from New York. He gazed again 
down the water, dreamily, to where the far 
hills beckoned, like the blessed isles of a 
Homeni fancy, and realized that inevitably 
the old Byron Gray, the cynic of rickety nerves 
and caustic tongue was soon to disappear, like 
a dream of the night. He tried to analyse 
his reaction psychologically, but gave it up, 
since the prevailing mood of nature did not 
inspire such mechanical introspection. 

He had come to the Adirondacks thinking 
only of himself. To get back his health, have 
as good a time as he could, go back to fight 
the battle all over again—^that had been his 
only idea. He now knew that his first idea was 
gone, never to return, for he had found some¬ 
thing new, something which he liked and which 
he could not bear to think of leaving. He 
began to anticipate his stay in the Great North 
Woods with considerable pleasure, and not the 
discontent with which he had arrived. Before 
he realized it, his thoughts were upon the chal¬ 
lenge he had accepted the evening before. 
Could he win out*? This was the question 
uppermost in his mind. 

^ ‘ The woods! ” he thought. ‘ ‘ How different 




Mattie O’Neil of the Beakfoot Ihh 


45 


from anything I have ever known before. This 
trackless forest, with trails but dimly marked, 
and unsafe for a tenderfoot—rivers—^hun¬ 
dreds of lakes and rocky steeps—^the eccentric 
old trapper—the mystery of the cave—all these 
make my undertaking seem almost beyond my 
strength, wisdom or training.” 

He resolved to start his quest as soon as he 
had become quite rested, and had gotten back 
some of his staying power. 

Shouts of childish voices behind him caught 
G-ray’s ear, and he turned to see Mattie O’Neil 
just leaving the Inn with an eager group of 
happy children. Gray wondered where they 
were going. Soon a school bell began to fill 
the valley with reverberating echoes. Then 
Gray surmised that Mattie, perhaps, taught 
school. That would account for her manner 
and her good English. He had thought her 
unusual. 

While he was looking back, shielding his 
eyes from the sun, a shout from the lake drew 
his attention. A. canoe approached, with a 
figure in the stern which Gray recognized to 
be Jack Blake. He was dipping the paddle 
with a slow grace, though his stroke was vig¬ 
orous. He waved to Gray in recognition, and 
in a moment the canoe grated on the sand. 

“Been down th’ Sacandaga,” he stated, 
laconically, drawing the canoe up on the beach. 
“How yuh feelin’ this mornin’?” 



46 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mtjck Cave 


^‘Pretty well/’ replied Gray, ^Hhough I’m 
not very energetic yet.” 

Yuh’ll be feelin’ great ’fore long,” prophe¬ 
sied the guide. Then he noticed Mattie and the 
children, nearly out of sight down the road. 
^^Met her yet?” he asked. 

‘‘At breakfast,” was the answer. “Is she 
the school teacher, too?” 

“Yep, an’ I guess she’s pretty bright. Th’ 
kids all worship her.” 

“So I see,” observed Gray. “I’m not sur¬ 
prised.” Then, as an after-thought he con¬ 
tinued, “She’s Uncle David’s daughter, I 
presume?” 

“ ’Dopted,” said Blake, shortly. “Left in 
a basket one night, in th’ livin’ room o’ th’ 
Inn—Uncle David never locks up, yuh know. 
There was a couple o’ letters ’bout her parents 
an’ all that. Mother was a widder—” 

Blake’s voice died away into silence. Gray 
nodding with understanding. They walked 
toward the Inn without either man speaking. 

“She’s been a God-send t’ this place,” re¬ 
sumed Blake as they climbed the Inn steps. 
“Helps th’ kids all kinds o’ ways when their 
old man spends all his money down t’ Mike’s 
Temp’ranee Parlor. ’Sides that, she’s good 
’s a trained nurse when anybody gits sick.” 

“She’s very attractive,” suggested Gray. 

“Waal—” said Blake, and then decided to 
say no more. 



Mattie O’Neil of the Beaefoot Ihh 


47 


That afternoon Oray visited Mattie’s school. 
He had been walking about Orendaga village, 
and happened to wander around to the school 
yard just as the children were out for recess. 
Perhaps there was more design than chance in 
his going. A score or so of happy children 
were running about in a game, joyously shout¬ 
ing and tagging each other after short, frantic 
spurts around the circle of players. Gray was 
standing watching them when Mattie appeared 
in the doorway to summon her youthful 
charges back to their books. Catching sight of 
Gray, she came down the steps. 

Perhaps you’ve never seen a country school 
in action,” she invited. 

‘‘No, I haven’t. My country experiences 
have never included school visiting,” he an¬ 
swered. “I should like to very much, if I 
won’t be a bother.” 

“If you won’t make fun—” 

Gray knew a moment of discomfiture. She 
had detected the cynic in him; he wondered 
how. 

“No, indeed I shall not make fun,” he 
replied. 

Mattie tapped the small desk bell which she 
carried in her hand, and the shouts in the yard 
ceased quickly. The children divided into two 
lines, one of boys and the other of girls, and 
marched into the small two-roomed building 
to Mattie’s count. 



48 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-muck Cave 


She led Gray through a narrow hall into her 
room, where there was a low hum of voices. 
Conducting Gray to the slightly raised plat¬ 
form at the front of the room, Mattie offered 
him a chair. Turning to the pupils, she began 
to speak, and they, seeming to know what was 
coming, listened attentively. 

Children,’^ said Mattie, ‘Hhis gentleman 
sitting here is Mr. Gray, from New York. He 
is a guest at the Inn, and has already proved 
himself a generous visitor. It is an honor to 
have him with us, and I am sure that Mr. Gray 
will talk to you for a few minutes, taking any 
helpful subject he may choose.” 

There was only one word emphasized in what 
Mattie said. It was ‘‘generous.” The intro¬ 
duction found Gray completely surprised, and 
somewhat taken back. Mattie had lined him 
up quickly; he recognized the challenge and 
accepted it with a smile, for he was sure that 
Mattie had deliberately taken this means of 
testing his poise and ability. He did not know 
that every visitor to school was called upon to 
speak in this same way. 

Gray briefly and tactfully explained the rea¬ 
son for his coming to Orendaga, saying that he 
was happy to be at the very center of civiliza¬ 
tion. This provoked a quickly suppressed 
smile from Mattie. 

In closing. Gray said, “Miss O’Neil stated 
in her introduction that I was from New York, 



Mattie O’Neil of the Bearfoot Inn 


49 


I am—from the busiest part of New York, 
Wall Street. They call it the financial district, 
and the name of that street is of world-wide 
fame. Fortunes are made and lost in a day. 
It is there, and in similar places in the great 
cities that men become greedy, piling up 
wealth, sacrificing health, and shortening their 
lives simply because they do not loosen their 
grip on business. They think, as I did, that 
civilization is in the bosom of the great cities, 
in places of learning and great libraries, where 
men grind on, seeking constantly for more 
culture and wealth without giving thought to 
the highest things in life.” 

As Gray spoke the idea came to Mattie, and 
grew stronger as he continued, that he was not 
speaking to the children now, but to her. 

‘^This is my second day in the great school 
of common sense,” went on Gray, ‘‘and I am 
thankful for such a place of beauty and for 
such instructors as I am sure you will all be 
to me. I know that when I have returned to 
the city I will have learned many a lesson that 
will make me more useful to the world and able 
to enjoy life more fully.” 

When Gray sat down he wondered what had 
happened to him that he should speak as he 
had, with such a naive and simple enthusiasm. 
Where was the sophistry which it had always 
been his wont to employ? Where were the 
sarcasm and irony which he knew so well how 



50 


The Mysteky oe Ktjh-ja-muck Cave 


to pour out upon those who lived not accord¬ 
ing to his former standard^ 

Mattie interrupted this train of thought, 
asking him if he cared to stay until school was 
over. Cray replied in the affirmative, and took 
a chair at the rear of the room, while Mattie 
went ahead with the regular school routine. 

The little school room was quiet save for a 
reading class which Mattie had called up to her 
desk—a half dozen, boys and girls, the latter 
with flaxen braids straight down their backs, 
and tied at the ends with bright but wrinkled 
ribbons. The boys were all arms and legs, 
nervously eager like young colts, but meek be¬ 
fore their teacher. They read in quavering 
voices. The other pupils were busy at work, 
the yoimger ones writing in their copy-books, 
the older drawing maps which they colored 
with wax crayons. 

Eaising his eyes to inspect the room more 
closely, he saw blackboards, panelled between 
windows at various points around the room. 
They were very attractive with neat drawings, 
in white and colored chalk, here a column of 
figures, there a mountain flower outlined from 
root to petal. At the top of each board was a 
moral teaching printed in crayon, in the hope 
that its message might strike home to the 
hearts and minds of those who came there to 
school. Among them were such trite bits as 
‘^Be not simply good, be good for something,’’ 



Mattie O’Neil of the Bearfoot Inn 


51 


and Lincoln’s saying: hero is the man who 

does his duty.” 

Soon the time for closing drew near, as the 
boys and girls began to put their books inside 
the mysterious caverns of the desks and to 
straighten their clothing, disarranged in the 
happy play of recess. All of the school hushed 
—for there had been an indistinct and pleas¬ 
ing hum before—^while Mattie slowly rose. 
Then, as if with one voice, the children began 
to repeat: 

‘‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want 
—” a new meaning, laden with beauty, came 
to Gray and a deep emotion stirred him. He 
had not known how wonderful a poem that 
ancient psalm of David was. Its magnificent 
imagery was brought out by those childish 
voices in their slow, well trained repetition. 

“He leadeth me beside the still waters. He 
restoreth my soul—” 

These words released his imagination and 
sent him back to the morning in his walk along 
the beach, with the sand filling his shoes, the 
wind blowing through his hair, and the warm 
sun kissing everything with a golden halo. 

“He restoreth my soul,” said Byron Gray 
to himself, without the slightest thought of 
what the phrase really meant. 

As school was dismissed, a wild burst of 
voices re-echoed through the air. Mattie 
turned to Gray. “Aren’t they wonderful?” 



52 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muce: Cave 


she asked, with an emphasis of aifection on the 
last word that gave it a deep significance. 
‘ ‘ They were very good to-day—sometimes they 
like mischief, but even that is fascinating.’^ 
She smiled as if recalling some particular 
misdemeanor. 

“I really did not think I could be as inter¬ 
ested as I am,” Gray confessed. Then he 
paused. ^‘Honestly, I did not know schools 
were like this.” Mattie had listened to his 
voice rather than his words, and understood 
the deep compliment intended. 

‘‘Oh, of course,” she said, “they are if the 
teacher cares.” 

Then began a long conversation which ended 
in a discussion of educational method and 
theory, with Mattie condemning the wholesale 
factory standard system so apt to be found in 
cities and championing the country school with 
its opportunity for individual development. 
It began to grow late. 

“You’d better not wait for me, Mr. Gray,” 
finished Mattie. “I’ve some work still to do 
—a drawing to put on the board for to-mor¬ 
row and some routine tasks, and I usually walk 
down with the other teacher. Miss Arnold.” 

So he left, a thousand thoughts stimulating 
his progress. At the four corners he met two 
of the older boys of the school. They were 
carrying a few packages, evidently having 
come from the store. 



Mattie O’Neil of the Beakfoot Iisrisr 


53 


‘‘Did you like our school?” asked the older, 
whom Gray knew to be the Tom Livingstone 
Mattie had mentioned at the Inn that morning. 
He was the orphaned son of an artist who had 
died of poverty and disease. The younger boy 
was his brother, Bill, an engaging lad in his 
early teens. Both had mild brown eyes and a 
frank, boyish winsomeness of manner. 

“I certainly did,” said Gray. “I begin to 
wish I had gone to a school like that.” After 
he spoke, he was surprised at his assertion and 
the many implications which it suggested to his 
mind. He let it stand, however. “Do you 
boys live near here?” he asked. 

“Why, not right here,” replied Tom, point¬ 
ing to a hill in the distance. “We live over 
yonder—it’s a mile or so, I guess.” 

“It’s pretty far, in winter,” suggested Bill, 
looking at his brother. 

“Oh yes,” agreed Tom, “some days last win¬ 
ter. we couldn’t even get to school, it was so 
cold—and the snow drifted—” 

“We even had to let our dog sleep under 
the stove,” broke in Bill, turning his wide 
eyes toward Gray. “And Louie came too, and 
wouldn’t even— ’ ’ 

“I guess he don’t know about Louie,” Tom 
admonished his brother, and went on to ex¬ 
plain for Gray’s benefit. “He’s a trapper that 
lives way up the Kun-ja-muck, and he came 
to bring us presents. He’s awfully good—” 



54 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-muce: Cave 


wouldn’t even come in to get warm,” 
piped Bill, persistent in telling his story. ‘ ^ He 
just put the box in the door, and went. We 
called to him—” 

‘‘But he only said, ‘Me Louie, good-bye,’ and 
went right along,” contributed Tom. “Some 
people think he’s queer, but we all like him. 
He’s French, you know.” 

Gray and the boys had been slowly walking 
along the country road. 

“Do you know what he gave us?” Bill ques¬ 
tioned. “Why, candy, and shirts, and boots 
—for both of us. Wasn’t that good?” The 
boy cocked his head eagerly on one side, look¬ 
ing up at Gray’s face as they walked. 

“He must like you very much,” said Gray, 
wondering what reply was expected. 

“I guess he must,” agreed Tom. “Well, 
we like him. He knows all about the woods, 
and he told us he had a pet bear—” 

“And a pet skunk!” exclaimed Bill. “Did 
you ever see a pet skunk, Mr. Gray?” 

Gray admitted that a pet of that order must 
be a rare curiosity. They came to a turn in 
the road where Bill suggested that Mr. Gray 
ought to stop. It was pretty far to their house, 
the boy stated. 

“Louie’s got pet snakes, too,” interrupted 
Bill. “They come when he whistles t ’em!” 

“That’s right,” Tom verified. “He told us 
so.” 



Mattie O’Neil of the Beaefoot Inn 


55 


Gray said good-bye to the two lads, promis¬ 
ing that it would not be long until be saw them 
again. Slowly be walked back to Orendaga, 
for be was ratber wearied by tbe day’s activi¬ 
ties. Reaching tbe Inn, be went directly to 
bis room and sank into a bome-made Morris 
cbair beside tbe window. 

Wbat a different world, be thought, from tbe 
one two hundred and fifty miles away! Tbe 
city, wonderful as it was, could not really be 
as delightful as this. Here tbe doors were 
never locked, every man knew every other man 
in tbe neighborhood and distrusted few. Gray 
thought of all bis ambitious dreams which bad 
once seemed worth while, but which bad turned 
out to be only disappointments and broken 
health. Looking backward to the old life, he 
saw that he had lacked something vital, a some¬ 
thing which seemed to be present among the 
rough people who lived at Orendaga. 

But his mind could not long be forgetful of 
the Kun-ja-muck mystery. Louie, Louie— 
everyone spoke of him. Some of the guides 
painted him as a cruel old pirate, crafty, merci¬ 
less when angry, violent in hate. Others said 
Louie had no deceit in him, that he was 
straightforward. Mattie had described him as 
absolutely faithful to any trust he accepted; 
she told many instances of his generosity. The 
guides believed that he was entangled in the 
Kun-ja-muck mystery. Everyone agreed that 



56 


The Mystery of Kijh-ja-muck Cave 


he avoided women, had no word of greeting 
for them when he met them, and, if possible, 
never went where he knew women to be. And 
the boys, Tom and Bill Livingstone, their 
voices betraying far more than their words, 
thought of him as a real man. What must the 
man be like ? 



CHAPTER IV 


MUSIC BEGINS IN THE HEART 

Thou must be true thyself 

If thou the truth wouldst teach; 

Thy soul must overflow if thou 
Another’s soul would reach; 

It needs the overflow of heart 
To give the lips full speech. 

Think truly and thy thoughts 
Shall the world’s famine feed; 

Speak truly, and each word of thine 
Shall be a fruitful seed; 

Live truly, and thy life shall be 
A great and noble creed. 


T hat evening the guides met again in the 
Fishermen’s Room. Gray felt more at 
ease, for he had learned to know them all 
by name. He had been so engrossed in the 
story of Louie Lament the evening before that 
he had not taken time to observe carefully 
those on whom he must depend most for in¬ 
formation regarding the woods. 

Cal Wilks was the first to light his pipe. 
He was a wiry little man, intelligent, and 
always looked one straight in the eye. Wilks 
was an excellent marksman, could bring down 
a partridge in the thick of the woods with 
rarely a miss, and possessed uncanny skill in 
hitting the bull’s-eye. Rob Stevens had de- 
57 


58 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mij6k Cave 


scribed bi TYi at the store that afternoon as 
little man with a big heart/’ 

Isaiah Pikes was there, as usual, settled 
down in his accustomed corner. He had spent 
the day on the Jessup River, just south of 
Indian Lake, and, tired by the long trip back 
to Orendaga, said little. That region was com¬ 
mon ground to Isaiah, as he had kept a hrmt- 
ing lodge for years on the main road, the lodge 
being used as headquarters by groups of city 
men who came up in the Pall for the deer sea¬ 
son. The buildings were made of rough logs, 
with great stone fireplaces inside. Pikes and 
his wife knew how to cook, and many men 
preferred this hospitable hunting lodge to the 
larger hotels in the vicinity. 

Milt Boyd, fat and good natured, the wit 
and josher of the village, was also there. Milt 
was not much of a hunter, being rather too 
heavy on his feet. Every twig on which he 
stepped proclaimed his whereabouts with a 
loud snap. His greatest failing was his inabil¬ 
ity to keep silent, as a good hunter and guide 
should do, and he had a self-confessed love for 
eating that outweighed all other considerations 
with him. 

Big Jack Blake was late in coming. With 
others, he had been loosening the log jam on 
the Sacandaga so that the high water might 
carry the pulp wood and pine down to the 
deeper waters of the Hudson. 



Music Begins in the Heart 


59 


Soon after Blake entered the room Milt 
Boyd turned to him with a quizzical look. 

‘‘Jack, when ’d yuh see Mattie last?’’ he 
asked. 

“Can’t yuh take care o’ Mattie ’thout my 
help?” retorted the other pleasantly. 

Milt led the merriment in which the men 
all joined. 

Gray caught the meaning of the sally, and, 
looking at Blake, he knew that of all men, 
Jack Blake had the face, form, and character 
which would be most admired by Mattie. 

While all the men gathered in the Fisher¬ 
men’s Boom were strong as only woodsmen can 
be, and the sort of men anyone would be glad 
to have as friends, yet Jack Blake was the 
leader. Broad shoulders, round chest, the face 
of a real man—Gray tried to picture him as a 
back on a football team. Blake’s daily occupa¬ 
tion with its dangers, untangling log jams, 
climbing over great rocks, scaling cliffs, and 
working beside falling waters which rushed 
through narrow gorges and dropped to the 
depths below had made of Blake a strong, fear¬ 
less man. 

Gray marked him as his choice for a com¬ 
panion and confidential helper. With Blake’s 
assistance. Gray believed he could work into 
the good graces of Louie Lament and eventu¬ 
ally solve the mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave. 

Gray’s visit to the school became the topic 



60 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


of discussion when Cal Wilks, the proud father 
of ten children, said, “My kids all come home 
fr’m school Cday an’ tried t’ tell me ’bout your 
goin’ there. Couldn’t git much news, ’count o’ 
all on ’em talkin’’t once.” 

Blake seemed particularly interested in 
what Cal said, and the other guides eyed him 
with many a sly wink. They needed no one to 
tell them what was in Blake’s mind. To their 
surprise, however, Blake was the first to ex¬ 
press appreciation of Gray’s interest in the 
community. 

Milt Boyd saw another chance for a dig at 
Blake. 

“Better practice up on yer fiddle, Blakie! 
Then yuh c’n go t’ school with Mr. Gray.” 

“Waal,” drawled Blake, “I don’t know any¬ 
body I’d ruther be with ’n Mattie,’ ’n Mr. 
Gray, ’n th’ kids.” 

Gray explained how he happened to visit 
the school, describing the children and the way 
they studied with a humor and tact that found 
a ready response in the children’s fathers. 

‘^Mattie tells me you’re goin’ to help with 
the music,” said Uncle David, interestedly. 
“Didn’t know you was a musician ’til she told 
me.” 

“Yes,” said Gray, “I’ve talked with Mattie 
since I was at school this morning, and she 
has persuaded me to take charge of the musical 
work in the community. My purpose in doing 



Music Begins in the Heakt 


61 


this is threefold. It’ll give me something to 
do until I get my full strength back again, 
it’ll help the children of the village, and it may 
aid in solving the mystery of the Knn-ja-muck 
Cave. I’ve a sort of bargain with Miss O’Neil, 
you see. In return for the musical instruction 
which I give, I’m to take a course in woodcraft 
from Miss O’Neil and the children at the 
school. It’s something I need very badly, too. 

‘Mn regard to our decision of last evening, 
I’ve worked out a plan of operation, but it is 
yet imperfect, and I will wait until I am sure 
of it before telling you. I promise, however, 
to bend every effort toward winning over 
Louie and discovering the mysterious stranger 
of the cave. While doing this, I may be of 
some assistance to the children of Orendaga, 
and they also can teach me some of the lessons 
of the woods which I failed to get in a uni¬ 
versity.” 

/^That musical stuff’s jest what we need,” 
said BJake. ‘^There’s only two pianos in this 
town, an’ nothing else, ’cept th’ organ in th’ 
church.” 

^^What ails yer fiddle, Blakie"?” called out 
Milt Boyd. 

‘‘Ain’t tuned ’er fer a long time,” replied 
Blake, “but she might work ’f I took ’er out o’ 
th’ moth balls.” 

Gray congratulated Blake on knowing how 
to play a violin, and proposed that a piano be 



62 


The Mysteky of Ktjh-ja-mijck Cave 


purchased for the school. In Gray’s opinion, 
an orchestra might even be started at the 
school, selecting the musically inclined chil¬ 
dren, and including men like Blake who knew 
how to play some instrument. 

^‘New idear,” observed Isaiah Pikes, laconi¬ 
cally. ‘^Good ’un, though.” 

^‘I’m in fer it too,” exclaimed Blake, “with 
my last dollar an’ every minute I c’n git off 
fr’m lumb’rin’.” 

Uncle David walked to the front of the room 
and stood before the fireplace. He was some¬ 
times called the “silent man” by the guides, 
from his reluctance to talk at any length. 
Things in general never called forth a great 
show of interest on Uncle David’s part, but 
when it became a question of benefiting the 
children of Orendaga, he was eager to talk. 
He had never had a child of his own, but lav¬ 
ished his love and affection on his adopted 
daughter, Mattie. 

^ Clasping his hands behind him and trying to 
stand erect. Uncle David began to speak. 

“I’ve often thought there wa’n’t much sing- 
in’ in Orendaga, ’specially ’mongst the men. 
Look at ’em when they come to church! They 
never open their mouths, an’ the boys in Sun¬ 
day School are just the same way. What we 
want ’round here is music in our souls, and 
it seems like your cornin’ here, Mr. Gray, is 
goin’ to get us all singin’ the way we ought to. 



MiJSic Begins in the Heakt 


63 


I’m goin’ to give the Woods Room of this 
Inn to be used for a community center or what¬ 
ever you call it, where we c’n all get together 
and sing and have a good time. Well have the 
piano all fixed up, and I’ll pay for another one 
for Mattie’s room at the school.” 

Stamping of feet, cheers and whistles filled 
the Fishermen’s Room when Uncle David had 
finished. The men looked instinctively to Blake 
to respond to Uncle David’s words. 

Gray looked him up and down as he pulled 
himself together and rose to his full height. 
What a man! Well over six feet in height, a 
face of the Lincoln type, showing calm judg¬ 
ment, and a spirit of unselfish devotion to 
others. His voice was deep, and he spoke 
evenly, slowly. 

“Uncle David,” said he, “yuh’ve been in 
these parts a long time, an’ we’ve been helped 
by yuh all our lives, pretty near. Yuh don’t 
talk much, but yuh think heaps, an’ t’night 
yuh’ve done both. Yuh’ve done helpful an’ 
thoughtful deeds every day. We all on us 
know yuh’re th’ man as cared fer that hungry 
an’ friendless baby that was left here in th’ 
Inn. ’F yuh hadn’t of saved an’ eddicated 
Mattie O’Neil, God only knows all we’d ’ve 
missed. Our homes, an’ our lives, too, has been 
cheered an’ blessed by that girl. What yuh’ve 
jest said. Uncle David, is ’nother example o’ 
th’ kindness that comes straight fr’m God t’ 



64 


The Mysteky oe Ktjn-ja-mtjck Cave 


yuh, an’ fr’m yuh t’ us. We sure can’t thank 
yuh ’nough fer givin’ us th’ Woods Room an’ 
a new planner fer Mattie.” 

All the woodsmen shook hands with Uncle 
David, whose wrinkled face beamed with pleas¬ 
ure at seeing the happiness he had given to 
them. The guides promised they would also 
learn to sing or to play if Gray or Blake would 
teach them. 

At Cal Wilks’ suggestion the entire company 
went into the Woods Room, where there was a 
piano, to hear Gray sing. Uncle David called 
in Mattie to tell her about the piano, and Blake 
went in search of his violin. When all were 
assembled. Gray sat down at the piano, play¬ 
ing his own accompaniment, and sang ‘^Love’s 
Old Sweet Song.” After several repetitions, 
the men began to sing softly, remembering 
scraps of the verses here and there, and Blake 
found the key on his violin, bringing out tones 
that surprised Gray. 

As the evening’s entertainment came to a 
close. Uncle David once more spoke to the 
woodsmen. 

Remember, men,” said he, music, like 
many other things worth livin’ for, begins in 
the heart.” 

During the next few days. Gray found the 
welfare of the community of growing interest 
to him. He was beginning to feel at home. 



Music Begins in the Heart 


65 


and the names and faces of the woodsmen and 
their families were now intimately associated 
in his mind. Their pleasure over every new 
development in regard to music and other 
social activities in the village was real and 
unmistakable. 

‘‘City folks that usually come up here in th’ 
summer/’ said Isaiah, “gen’rally try t’ see 
how much they c’n git ’n take away with ’em, 
’stead o’ thinkin’ ’bout improvements. Don’t 
s’pose most on ’em ever wonder what we got 
t’ do in th’ long winter days. ’P ’twa’n’t fer 
this music stuff, don’t know what we would do 
t’ pass th’ time.” 

Mattie was filled with new life and energy 
in helping Gray with his plans for making the 
Orendaga community center a success. She 
had seen the effect of the music in the Woods 
Room with the guides a few days before, and 
realized the possibilities of the “sing” opened 
to those who were working for the happiness 
of the villagers. Mattie was more than thank¬ 
ful for the united help of Gray and Blake. It 
was only Uncle David who knew the depth of 
gratitude within her soul, for he was the only 
person to whom she unfolded her hopes, fears 
and joys. Throwing her arms around him at 
night, after a day spent in bringing good cheer 
and happiness to their needy souls, Mattie 
hugged the old man as she used to when but a 
child on his knee, and told him again and again 




66 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mtjce: Cave 


how she loved the only parents she had ever 
known. 

The gift of the piano to the school, she told 
Uncle David, meant as much to the children 
as if he had given each child a separate instru¬ 
ment, for now, even those who had never heard 
a piano except at the Inn might have an oppor¬ 
tunity to learn to play. Old David put his 
hand on her head, stroking her beautiful hair, 
and told her his plans for the future. 

‘‘Your mother an’ I,’’ he said, “are ’most at 
th’ end of our road, an’ we must tell you that 
when we’re gone, all we have is yours. Cod 
sent you to us, an’ we feel that this Inn an’ all 
that we possess ought to be used for Christian 
service. It’s His presence, you know, little 
girl, that safeguards, purifies, an’ gives peace. 
Folks that don’t know ’bout Him may come 
here, an’ if they make mistakes an’ blimders 
at first. He’ll give them fresh courage an’ 
strengthen them. It’s all yours, Mattie dear, 
an’ I know His strong hand’ll lead you all 
the way.” 

The same night that Uncle David told this to 
Mattie, Cray tossed restlessly on his bed, un¬ 
able to quiet his mind. The events of the last 
few days passed before his mind’s eye in rapid 
succession. There was the “sing” of a few 
evenings ago and Blake’s thoughtful speech. 
Then, like a shuttle playing back and forth 
in the loom, his thoughts veered to his office in 



Music Begins in the Heakt 


67 


the city and he felt the pressure of the routine 
tasks of the indoor life. Back again came his 
mind to the Fishermen’s Room, where there 
still seemed to echo the words of Uncle David 
as he offered to buy a new piano for Mattie’s 
school room. 

Then Gray began to wonder what had come 
over him that he found his daily contact with 
these rough people so pleasant. Would the old 
Byi'on Gray have done what he was doing ^ 
Assuredly not. And yet Gray enjoyed it. He 
acted from no sense of duty, no compulsion, 
nothing but a desire to be of service. It was 
strange; he could not explain it. He only 
knew that he found it satisfying. 

It was a great day for Orendaga when the 
piano arrived. From the first social evening 
at the Bearfoot Inn, the grown-ups as well as 
the children of the community had been wait¬ 
ing anxiously for this eventful hour. It 
marked the beginning of a new life for 
Orendaga. 

^‘This is a holiday,” declared Mattie as she 
stood at the door of the schoolhouse. Miss 
Arnold, the teacher of the other room in the 
school, stood nearby, surrounded by a joyous 
band of children. The men of the village who 
were free from work, and all those who could 
knock off for a part of the day gathered in 
front of the school at the ringing of the bell. 
Gray and Blake, ready to boss the job of un- 



68 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mtjck Cave 


packing the piano and setting it up, found all 
the male members of the population present 
eager to share in the work. 

To the accompaniment of Milt Boyd’s amus¬ 
ing chatter, the piano was lifted off the truck 
which had brought it into the wilderness, and 
was taken through the wide old doorway into 
Mattie’s room. Gray leading the way like a 
drum-major. While the people assembled, the 
fathers and mothers of Mattie’s pupils as well 
as those grown-ups who had no children in 
school. Gray placed the piano at the proper 
angle and made ready for the ^^sing.” 

As Mattie looked over the audience which 
now filled the room, she spied Uncle David, 
who, like the children, could not stay away. 
Mattie called him to the front, and stood be¬ 
side him, with Gray and Blake, while the peo¬ 
ple cheered the four who had done so much 
for the social life of Orendaga, and who were 
to do so much more. 

To christen the new piano. Gray asked Uncle 
David what he would like to have sung. 

‘^America,” replied the old man without a 
moment’s hesitation. 

Mattie played while Gray led the singing, 
and the old man’s quavering voice sounded out 
above the babel of childish voices and the 
deeper notes of the adults. 

There were requests for piano solos by Mat- 
tie. Someone shouted, ^^We want to hear the 



Music Begins in the Heart 


69 


piano alone!’’ and Mattie played the old and 
familiar ^‘Flower Song.” Gray watched her 
closely while she played. Her technique was 
good, and her expression better, while her 
spirited interpretation of the composition sur¬ 
prised Gray, who was a performer of consid¬ 
erable skill himself. 

When Mattie had finished. Gray played 
something that he thought would catch the 
fancy of these people, Paderewski’s ‘^Polish 
Dance.” Before commencing to play. Gray 
told them a little bit about the composer, his 
early struggles for recognition and his later 
success. It pleased the audience, and a call 
for more was answered by ^ ^ The Storm. ’ ’ Gray 
explained to them something about the struc¬ 
ture of a piano, and about the Avorkings of the 
human voice, things which they had never 
heard before and to which they listened in 
open-mouthed wonder. 

The crowd was delighted to learn that Jack 
Blake had brought his fiddle, and that he would 
play, accompanied by Mattie. It was Gray 
who had planned it, thinking of the simplicity 
of these people, and desiring to begin at their 
level, gradually working up to better music. 
Later, he told himself, such names as Bach, 
Beethoven, Gounod and Mozart would be¬ 
come by-words to the people of Orendaga. 

‘‘Mr. Blake’s first selection,” announced 
Gray, “will be ‘Money Musk.’ ” 



70 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-muck Caye 


A thunder of applause greeted this state¬ 
ment. It was a piece they knew, and one of 
which they never tired. It awoke memories 
of barn dances and winter parties, held years 
ago when they were young. 

‘‘That kind o’ playin’,” said Milt Boyd, “is 
what I like. This Padderwhisky may be a 
clever guy, but gimme good ol’ ‘Money Musk’ 
any day.” 

At Uncle David’s request the first piano re¬ 
cital at Orendaga was ended with the singing 
of the “Star Spangled Banner.” 

For three weeks Gray and Mattie, assisted 
by Blake in the evenings, devoted much time 
to music. The first hour of school in the morn¬ 
ing was set apart for devotion and singing, 
and on Saturday night there was choir practice 
for the services in the little white church. 

Gray had much to keep him busy. Once a 
week he conducted a musicale in the Woods 
Room of the Bearfoot Inn, to which all the 
people of Orendaga and nearby districts were 
invited. Mattie and Blake helped him work 
out the program of these musicales, making 
them educational as well as entertaining. In 
this way many evenings were spent at the Inn, 
singing the villagers into happier relations 
with one another, sweetening the day’s toil, and 
giving cheer to the stranger that might chance 
that way. 

Blake’s fiddle was soon known as a violin, 



Music Begins in the Heart 


71 


and even Milt Boyd wanted to learn to play 
something. Gray tried hard to help him, but 
without success. 

don’t believe you could even play a Jew’s- 
harp and get any music out of it,” was Gray’s 
conclusion. 

must be good fer somethin’,” said Milt, 
lugubriously. Couldn’t I beat up th’ bones 
er play th’ bass drum? Goin’ t’ have a or- 
chestry sometime, ain’t yuh?” 

^‘Yes,” replied Gray, ^‘but those things re¬ 
quire accuracy and a lot of practice. Bones 
are pretty difficult to play. In our minstrel 
show, which we’ll have some time in June or 
July when the city folks are here, the bones 
will play an important part. Some people 
think they only clatter, but if you’ll watch 
a good player you’ll see that he puts more 
music in every shake of his wrist than some 
people can bring out of a piano.” 

‘‘Guess I can’t play ’em, then,” mourned 
Milt. ‘ ‘ But what ’bout th ’ bass drum ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Well, how’s your time ? ’ ’ asked Gray. ‘ ‘ Can 
you keep step when the band plays ? Get out 
there in the aisle and let’s see.” 

Gray went to the piano and began playing 
“Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are March¬ 
ing.” Milt marched up one aisle and down 
the other. Gray watching him closely. 

“What do you think about it?” queried 



72 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-mhck Cave 


Gray when Milt drew near the piano. ‘^Are 
yon keeping step?’’ 

‘‘Sure,” said Milt. 

Gray was forced to disagree with him, and 
left the village josher to console himself with 
the thought that he would be free to josh the 
minstrel show without restraint, since he him¬ 
self, apparently, would not be a part of it. 



CHAPTER V. 


WHERE HEAVEN TOUCHES EARTH 

I will cast in the depths of the fathomless sea 
All your sins and transgressions, whatever they be. 

Though they mount up to heaven, though they reach down to hell. 
They shall sink into depths, and above them shall swell 
All my waves of forgiveness so mighty and free, 

I will cast all your sins in the depths of the sea. 

In the deep, silent depths far away from the shore. 

Where they never may rise up to trouble thee more. 

Where no far-reaching tide with its pitiless sweep 
May stir the dark waves of forgiveness deep, 

I have buried them there, where no mortal can see, 

I have cast all your sins in the depths of the sea. 

A S the month of May drew to a close, Gray 
heard the call of the forest more strongly 
than ever, and longed to be on his way, 
over the trails and up the narrow waterways. 

Again and again he examined the equip¬ 
ment already purchased—an Indian canoe of 
the steadiest and swiftest pattern, mess kits 
and clothing suitable for life in the woods. He 
was not exactly restless, for his stay in the 
village of Orendaga had been of service to the 
community and to himself, and was altogether 
pleasant. 

Gray’s bodily strength was nearly back to 
normal; sleepless nights had disappeared, 
despondency had taken flight, and hopefulness 

73 


74 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-mhck Cave 


and good cheer possessed him. His problems 
and imaginary Wrdens had melted away like 
snow before the sun. 

The outdoor exercise, which he had not 
failed to take every day, rain or shine, and 
regular hours for sleep and meals, had put 
him in shape for the harder undertaking. 

‘^Time well spent,’’ he thought of his stay 
in Orendaga. “Here is my base of operation, 
and here are friends who will prove true 
whether I succeed or fail in my attempt to dis¬ 
cover the Kun-ja-muck mystery.” 

The music he had introduced into Orendaga 
Gray liked to think of as the axe which was 
blazing the trail through the forest, over moun¬ 
tain and through valley to the cabin of Louie 
Lament, the trapper, and thence to the lonely 
cave on the Kun-ja-muck. Through his efforts 
for the villagers. Gray had won his way into 
their hearts and lives, and he knew that this 
would mean much to him when he once became 
involved in the solution of the mystery. 

Sometimes he liked to wonder just how it 
happened that he had stumbled into all the 
friendships and associations which meant so 
much to him in Orendaga. It was almost as 
though an unseen hand had guided him, first 
to Joe and his family, then to the store where 
he had first heard the story of the cave. 

Then there were the people he had met. 
Where, in all his travels, had he ever found 



Wheee Heaven Touches Baeth 


75 


such a man as this Jack Blake? Artless, un¬ 
educated, yet so capable and resourceful, Blake 
seemed to Gray one of the biggest-hearted men 
he had ever known. The big woodsman touched 
the lives with which he came into contact, and 
considered the poverty-stricken villager or the 
logman on the river worthy of as much, or 
more, kindness and consideration as the well 
groomed and polished metropolitan. 

Uncle David and his wife, the good Mother 
of the Inn, had not struggled to cover the earth 
with their wisdom and influence, which is, with 
many, nothing more than a desire to be great 
or to have wide power. Content were they 
to live simply, with their door open to all, 
helping the passer-by to And the trail that leads 
to health of body, strength of mind and bigness 
of soul. 

The children especially impressed Gray. 
They were poorly clad, some had never seen 
beyond the limits of Orendaga. Tom and Bill 
Livingstone had awakened in Gray’s heart a 
feeling that he never supposed could exist with 
him. They were eager to learn, their backs 
were bent with work that should have been 
done by men; but their hearts were full of 
praise for the blessings which they did have 
and their greatest desire was to help Louie 
Lament, who had befriended them because they 
were poor. 

Gray had come from one of those homes in 




76 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-mijck Cave 


the city where moderate wealth had made his 
youth entirely free from any of the problems 
known to practically every one of the boys of 
Orendaga. An only child, he had not been 
stinted, and had moved among companions 
who knew neither the struggle nor the happi¬ 
ness that comes to those who walk among the 
commoner things of life. His father had been 
devoted to business with his whole soul—for 
seven days a week, in the whirlpool of stocks, 
bonds and investments—there Gray’s father 
lived and died. 

Byron Gray had followed hard on the same 
well beaten path after his graduation from 
college, believing it to be his duty. When sud¬ 
denly confronted with the choice of living an 
outdoor life, relaxing nerve tension and heart 
pressure, or dying at a premature age as his 
father had done. Gray was tremendously 
shocked and disappointed. The life he was 
following in the business world was the only 
life he had ever considered or believed he 
should consider. He was struggling toward a 
goal, honorable and worthy, as the world terms 
it, and one deemed proper for any young man. 

In his analysis of what he had been and what 
he now was. Gray compared his former ideas 
of life with what he was now learning from the 
simple hearted people of the mountains. As¬ 
suredly, he told himself, they had taught him 
many lessons of lasting value. 



Where Heaven Touches Earth 


77 


Among the men vrhom Gray desired to know 
better was Paul Ward, the spiritual guide and 
pastor of the little white church at Orendaga 
—a man among men. Ward bore no outward 
sign of his profession; there was nothing in 
his garb to show that he was, supposedly, a 
better man than those he came to help. Occa¬ 
sionally Gray had attended the little white 
church, listening to Ward’s few words, at first 
with passive mind, and then with an awaken¬ 
ing interest. 

Gray remembered the last Sunday service 
he had attended at the little white church. 
Cal Wilks was ringing the bell for the eve¬ 
ning service, and as Gray entered the church 
the old hunter stood, erect, his hand on the 
bell rope and a smile on his face. Gray re¬ 
turned his hearty ^^Good evening,” and took 
a seat in the small auditorium. 

The pastor entered and went directly to the 
pulpit. He seemed eager to open the service, 
eager to talk to the villagers who were filling 
the pews. He was young, tall, and of forceful 
bearing, and an earnest emotion fiooded his 
face as he preached. 

“For this God is our God, forever and ever; 
He will be our guide even unto death,” was 
the text of the evening’s sermon. Ward pic¬ 
tured the need for a spiritual guide with a few 
swift strokes and shadings, speaking simply 
and with the dignity of truth. 



78 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-muck: Cave 


Gray did not usually ponder the words of a 
sermon, but that night, after the service, he 
strolled to the rear door of the church and 
stood there, looking out over the valley, and 
thinking about Ward, the friend of all men, 
and the message just given. 

It was mid-evening, with the twilight just 
deepening over Orendaga. The mountains 
were nearly blue against the sky, a sky bril¬ 
liant with red and gold streaks. The whole 
valley was overspread by a sort of roseate glow 
and the lake shone at times like a diamond, 
catching flashes of colored light which faded 
away into the dark green of the fir trees along 
the shore. 

The minister stepped to Gray’s side un¬ 
noticed, and the two men stood silently side by 
side for some moments. Neither man seemed 
in the mood for conversation, and after a mur¬ 
mured Good-night,” Gray strolled back to 
the Inn, his mind pre-occupied with thoughts 
of what life really meant to him and what it 
should mean. The scene often presented itself 
vividly to Gray’s mind, and he resolved to 
know Ward more intimately. 

One day Gray decided to make good his 
promise to visit the Livingstone boys. The 
home of the widow Livingstone was the com¬ 
mon meeting place for the poorer people of 
the region—those who had to struggle for the 
bare necessities of life. At the Livingstone 



Wheke Heaven Totjches Baeth 


79 


home were made curios and souvenirs of all 
sorts — baskets, balsam pillows, miniature 
canoes of birch bark, and rustic furniture. 
Tom and Bill were experts in this type of work 
and also in taxidermy of all kinds. 

Here, on a common level, met those who de¬ 
sired interesting and worth while employment, 
and particularly on Saturday was there a gath¬ 
ering of some considerable size at the Living¬ 
stone home. 

As Gray neared the top of the hill, shouts 
of welcome from the boys greeted him, and a 
great bustling among the curio makers proved 
his visit to be quite unexpected, and no small 
event to the people. Tom and Bill escorted 
him to the crude, slab-side workshop where 
Mrs. Livingstone greeted him most cordially. 
Gray looked about him with delight in his face. 

‘‘So this is the studio of the Livingstone 
boys!’’ said he. “Truly, it’s one of the most 
unique studios I’ve ever seen!” 

Gray’s admiration was genuine and his 
words had a sincere ring to them. 

“Great walk by way of the trail,” continued 
the visitor. 

The boys laughed as they saw him mopping 
perspiration from his flushed face. 

“Some climb, over th’ heights,” said Milt 
Boyd, who always came out to All balsam pil¬ 
lows on warm afternoons. 

“Well, I’ll get used to it after a while,” re- 



80 


The Mysteky of Kith-ja-mijck Cave 


joined Grray. ^‘My muscles are growing harder 
and my feet tougher every day/’ 

As he sat there in a rustic chair there came 
to him a remembrance of the story of this 
workshop, ‘ ‘ Pinesides, ” and of how Tom and 
Bill happened to he fatherless. 

Mr. Livingstone, an artist, had been forced 
to leave the city because of ill health and had 
sought refuge in the Adirondacks, hoping to 
strengthen his hold on life and keep his family 
together. 

What a view over the valley! Gray’s eyes 
took in the far flung beauty of the mountains 
and of Lake Pleasant, lying quietly in the mel¬ 
low calmness of a spring afternoon. Par down 
the lake, at the north end of a snow white beach 
which had been given its color by the glaciers, 
was the mouth of a river that could be traced 
in and out among the woods until it became 
lost in distant hills. Not far away nestled 
Echo Lake, with here and there a quaint farm¬ 
house. 

Directly below ^^Pinesides” lay the village 
of Orendaga, at the foot of Bear Mountain, 
with the steeple of the little white church 
pointing upward from its more sombre back¬ 
ground. The sun, nearing the horizon, cast 
beams of light across the heavens, turning the 
pink and gray of the fleecy clouds into a radi¬ 
ant orange. 

Truly, this is where heaven touches earth,” 



Where Heaven Touches Earth 


81 


said Gray under his breath; and he knew why 
Livingstone’s last picture, ‘‘Where Heaven 
Touches Earth,” had been the first honor 
painting at the Academy of Design exhibition 
five years before. Just after the painting was 
finished. Gray remembered, the artist had 
given up the struggle for life. 

Gray’s meditations were interrupted by the 
coming of Paul Ward. The two men greeted 
each other warmly and sat down side by side. 
They exchanged frequent remarks with Mrs. 
Livingstone and those who were working with 
her. 

After a while Ward asked if Gray had seen 
Livingstone’s famous canvas. Gray replying 
that he had a very clear remembrance of it. 

“It was a marvellous work,” said Gray, 
reminiscently. “I have often wondered 
whether that painting could be true to nature. 
Now I know it was.” 

Gray looked away over the hills and conjured 
up a vision of the painting as he remembered it. 
He realized that no painter could do justice to 
the scene that stretched out before him. 

Livingstone’s canvas, recalled Gray, was a 
symphony of lights and shades, blending in 
colorful harmony. Hills, tipped with gold, 
their slopes suffused with a bluish haze, were 
refiected in the waters of the lake—^waters 
tinged with the gorgeousness of the sunset. 
Low lying storm clouds of rich purplish grays. 



82 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-mijck Cave 


set against the horizon with fringes of flame, 
produced a rhapsody of color that was mag¬ 
nificent, almost too magnificent to be real. 
Higher clouds were limned in white and gold 
with gentle flushings of shell pink. 

Gray finally spoke. 

‘‘That painting,’/ said he, “had a spiritual 
quality which I never realized until I came 
here. I never believed that such sunsets as I 
have seen here could be transcribed to canvas.” 

“I can understand how Livingstone felt, in 
part, ’ ’ returned Ward. ‘ ‘ I watched that paint¬ 
ing grow under his hand; I saw the struggle he 
went through.” 

“It gives an entirely new meaning to nature, 
for me,” said Gray. “Livingstone was, as 
you have told me, a mystic. Yet his painting 
is not unreal. It is, rather,—” He stopped, 
groping for words to express what he felt. 

“A transfiguration,” suggested Ward, 
softly. 

Gray nodded a silent assent. 

“Gray,” the minister spoke slowly, evenly, 
“I think Livingstone felt in nature what the 
ancient psalmists did—a revelation of God. In 
olden times they said: 

“ ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, 

from whence cometh my help. 

My help cometh from the Lord, which 

made heaven and earth.’ 

“Livingstone simply painted psalm.” 



CHAPTER VI. 


THE MINSTREL SHOW 

Ten thousand sowers through the land 
Passed heedless on their way; 

Ten thousand seeds in every hand 
Of every sort had they. 

They cast seed here, 

They cast seed there, 

They cast seed everywhere. 

Anon, as many a year went by. 

These sowers came once more, 

Amd wandered ’neath the leaf-hid sky 
And wondered at the store. 

For fruit hung here. 

And fruit hung there. 

And fruit hung everywhere. 

Nor knew they in their tangled wood 
The trees that were their own; 

Yet as they plucked, as each one should. 

Each plucked what he had sown. 

So do men here. 

So do men there. 

So do men everywhere. 

G ray and Blake found themselves be¬ 
coming more closely linked together in 
their everyday pleasures and duties. 
Though very different in temperament, they 
were both growing to see the great funda¬ 
mentals of life more clearly. To Gray, par¬ 
ticularly, the unconscious influence of those 
around him who had become settled in their 
faith, purpose, and work, gave a new and 

83 


84 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


broader vision of life. He was now separating 
the grain from the chaff. In the city he had 
looked out upon the world through the mists 
of materialism which clouded the atmosphere 
in which he lived; but here in the hills he was 
seeing the realities of life in a new perspective. 

How useful in the village of Orendaga were 
these two men, the one of the forest and the 
other of the city! Both were strong, for Gray 
had now regained the physical vigor which had 
made him one of the greatest tackles his uni¬ 
versity football team had even known. Yet 
Gray and Blake were just common men, liked 
by most of the people of the district, but not 
by all. 

In talking over plans for further social en¬ 
deavor among the villagers, the two men had 
decided that a minstrel show would be the best 
thing to bring everyone together on a common 
basis. That sort of thing was just what ap¬ 
pealed to these simple people, and Gray felt 
that he could make it a success with the talent 
he had already discovered. 

It was in preparing for the minstrel show 
that Gray first met open hostility on the part 
of some men in Orendaga. 

Uncle David had given the Woods Room in 
the Inn for rehearsals, and the younger people 
of the town were eager to take part. The en¬ 
tire community buzzed with preparation, most 
of the people planning to take an active part 



The Minstkel Show 


85 


in the show, while others gave evidence of nn- 
mistakable opposition. The hostility toward 
Gray centered around one Mike Murphy, a 
man of much force and vigor, whose stubborn¬ 
ness and ignorance were colossal. 

Before the enactment of the Eighteenth 
Amendment, he kept a saloon on Main Street. 
To the uninitiated, this place was nothing more 
than a billiard room; but to the Tamerack gang 
it was a rendezvous for debauch, gambling and 
political trickery. Mike Murphy was the head 
of an organization of bootleggers who smug¬ 
gled in liquor from across the Canadian bor¬ 
der; and his erstwhile saloon, now known as 
the ‘^Temperance Parlor,” had become a filthy 
dive where poisonous liquor could be procured 
as easily as before Prohibition. 

Mike and his followers had no use for the 
school, the church, or the work which Gray and 
Blake were doing in Orendaga. They opposed 
any movement for enlightenment or better¬ 
ment of social conditions, and, as was to be 
expected, abused the leaders of the minstrel 
show and laughed with bitter jeers at those tak¬ 
ing part in the rehearsals. 

Gray and Blake were seated in the Woods 
Room of the Bearfoot Inn one morning, talk¬ 
ing over plans for the minstrel show and the 
best way to combat Mike Murphy ^s opposition. 
They had just begun to discuss ways of get¬ 
ting some of the men of the village away from 



86 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mijck Cave 


the ‘^Temperance Parlor’’ and its influence, 
when Mattie entered the room. 

She noticed their earnestness and asked if 
she could be of help to them. 

“Can’t you suggest a way of getting these 
men, the fathers of your school children, inter¬ 
ested in more worthy things asked Grray. 

“We have helped the fathers already,” re¬ 
plied Mattie, ‘ ‘ through their children. Look at 
Sally Edwards’ father, Sandy. He still hangs 
around Mike’s place, but he doesn’t get hor¬ 
ribly drunk the way he used to. And I think 
Jimmy Woodward, Sam’s boy, has helped his 
father as a result of our efforts with the music 
and other work at school.” 

“Well,” said Gray, “Jack and I think that 
this minstrel will do a great deal toward bring¬ 
ing the fathers of these school children into a 
more wholesome atmosphere than that in 
which they have been living. We seem certain 
to have trouble with Murphy, but perhaps it’s 
a good thing. If we can bring him out in the 
open and fight him with weapons like the min¬ 
strel show, I think it will do more good than 
trying to get his followers to desert him one 
by one.” 

“Yuh’re right,” broke in Blake. “Mike’s 
got a pow’rful strong hold o’ some o’ them fel¬ 
lers, ’specially Sam Woodward an’ Sandy 
Edwards. ’Tain’t no use tryin’ t’ git th’ law 
onto him, ’cause he’s got too much p’litical 



The Minstrel Show 


87 


pull. He donT have t’ worry ^bout gittin’ 
’rested fer bootleggin’.” 

‘‘And besides,” said Mattie, returning to the 
discussion of the minstrel show, “in this way 
well get right next to the men, meet them on 
their own ground, and then we may be able to 
lift them little by little until they can continue 
on their way alone.” 

‘ ‘ I think it’d be a good plan, ’ ’ said Blake, “ t ’ 
put Sam an’ Sandy on th’ minstrel c’mmittee. 
They c’n sing pretty fair, when they ain’t 
drunk, an’ if we c’n git ’em into it, there’s no 
tollin’ how far we might be able t’ git ’em away 
fr’m Mike an’ that Tamerack gang.” 

Gray and Mattie agreed, and Sam and Sandy 
were duly enrolled on the minstrel committee. 

Gray was anxious to get the show into shape 
as soon as possible. He wanted to be away on 
the trail to Louie and the Kun-ja-muck Cave. 
This minstrel show, he told himself, would be 
the last social event he directed before starting 
on his long trip. Then too, he felt that it would 
make a final link between himself and those 
people in the village whom he might need to 
count as friends and helpers after his quest 
had begun. 

The last rehearsal for the minstrel was in 
progress at the Town Hall. Every performer 
was in his place, when, to the great surprise 
of many of those assembled, in walked Mike 
Murphy. 



88 


The Mysteky of Kijh-ja-mtjce: Cave 


He was a massively built man—^tall, broad 
shouldered, and heavy with muscle. His face 
was uncouth in its expression, in spite of f airly 
good features. His eyes were keen, yet sullen 
with foreboding; his lips were loose and sen¬ 
sual ; his somewhat bulbous nose bore an ugly 
scar, jagged and livid; his coloring was so 
florid that he seemed in a perpetual rage, even 
when most jovial. Black eyebrows, thick and 
bushy, sat upon his face like a thunder cloud. 

He stood in the doorway, deflant, with his 
hands in his pockets and a leer turning up the 
corners of his mouth. But he said nothing, 
nor did he come nearer the stage. His nervous 
eyes spotted two of his Tamerack gang in the 
chorus. He looked at them with such a pitying 
disgust that the men, Sandy and Sam, cringed 
like dogs before the whip. 

The program was moving along in a satis¬ 
factory way. Blake was the middle man, while 
Gray stood on the floor, giving directions and 
making suggestions as each took his part. The 
end men were Sandy, on the right, and Sam on 
the left. Sandy had just said, ‘‘Mr. Middle 
Man, whom do you consider the biggest aristo¬ 
crat in the city of Orendaga,’’ and the middle 
man had given it up, with permission for Sam 
to answer the query. Sam began, ‘ ‘ The biggest 
aristocrat in the city of Orendaga is—’’ Here 
Mike jmnped up and began to curse Gray and 
the others in the room with violent oaths flood- 



The Minstrel Show 


89 


ing his speech. The storm broke as a surprise. 
It was terrific, for Mike’s voice was deep, res¬ 
onant, electric in anger. He roared at Sam and 
Sandy, and with murderous threats ordered 
them to back him. They looked at each other, 
then toward Blake. Blake’s eyes were fixed 
steadily on Murphy. 

Nearer and nearer Mike pushed toward 
Gray. There was no chance for debate or ex¬ 
planation, for Mike came with one purpose, 
apparent to all who knew him, and easily 
understandable to all others. 

Blake recognized Gray’s danger. The ser¬ 
pent was coiling and planning to strike a blow 
which might prove serious. Sandy and Sam 
trembled with indecision. Lose Mike and they 
would lose their entrance to the Temperance 
Parlor. Its cellars would be closed to them 
forever. 

To them, it was a choice between Mike’s 
whiskey and Blake’s Minstrel Show. The only 
thing which bound them to Mike was the ap¬ 
petite for liquor, which held them as in a vice 
and became the one great craving of their lives. 

Mike Murphy leaped toward Gray, but Blake 
struck before the heavy blow fell. As Blake 
and the assailant gripped each other, on came 
Sandy and Sam. Gray saw at a glance that 
they were prepared to stand by Mike and as 
he looked at them he knew they had yielded 
to Murphy’s will. It was Sandy who struck 



90 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-mijck Cave 


first; then Sam prepared to place a blow where 
Blake would not recover. 

Gray smiled and brought his teeth together 
with a snap. What a change had come over 
him in these few weeks! The strong chin, 
turned slightly up, indicated that the old foot¬ 
ball tackle was ready. 

Sam soon lay between the chairs, completely 
taken out of the fray, and old Sandy was trying 
to pull himself together somewhere down the 
aisle. Gray stood there, still cool and ready 
for both of them if they chose to return. He 
gloried in his new-found strength, and waited 
tensely. 

Mike and Blake were more evenly matched 
and fought like men of the woods, Mike fiercely 
striking for the face or watching for a deadly 
grip or overpowering blow. Gray stood with 
one eye on the battle and the other on Mike’s 
pals. They were so taken by surprise that they 
hesitated to try it again, although Gray’s posi¬ 
tion indicated that he expected another attack 
on their part. 

Just at the moment when Mike seemed to be 
getting the better of Blake, Sam and Sandy 
jumped at Gray with one leap. Both clinched 
him; one pounded his back, the other fought 
him bitterly, as only a madman can. As a test 
of strength Gray well knew it would be a de¬ 
cisive victory for them and his only hope lay 
in scientifically widening the circle by rapid 



The Minstrel Show 


91 


work; first,, by striking a heavy blow at one 
and then by a sudden under-stroke taking out 
the other. It worked like a charm, and, with 
back to the wall, he followed them up, first one, 
then the other, until they dropped exhausted to 
the fioor. Seeing that Blake was still strug¬ 
gling, Gray went to his side and panted, ‘Mil 
take him from now on, watch the other two.^’ 

Mike was slobbering at the mouth, and his 
eyes were like those of a vicious bull, red and 
infiamed. He made one desperate plunge, 
which Gray dodged, and Mike swung his whole 
weight into space. Turning quickly. Gray 
caught him by the throat and hurled him with 
mighty force against the wall and to the fioor. 
Once down, Mike found his breath gone. He 
understood that he had lost the struggle and 
was now at his opponent's mercy. 

There stood Sam and Sandy, badly bruised 
from their fight. They showed no disposition 
to try it again. Blake had the appearance of 
having had a long, rough bout in the ring, and, 
with hair tousled and his clothes torn and dis¬ 
arranged, he stood, breathing hard, satisfac¬ 
tion lining his lips with a slight smile. 

Gray was the first to speak. Looking at 
Blake he said, “Mr. Middle Man, whom do you 
consider the biggest aristocrat in the city of 
OrendagaT’ 

Blake laughed aloud; Sam and Sandy shuf¬ 
fled their feet and only stared at each other. 



92 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mhck Cave 


Mike was still lying on the floor, panting and 
blowing helplessly. 

‘‘Well, I must say,’’ said Blake, in answer 
to the minstrel joke, “the biggest aristocrat in 
the city of Orendaga is Mattie’s old tom-cat; 
he’s always out all night like a prosperous 
bootlegger!” 

A nervous laugh came from the frightened 
chorus, now widely scattered. 

Mike sat up, looked at his opponents, 
mopped his brow and said, “Well, boys, I guess 
th’ show’s over. Grood practisin’. I’ll be 
’round t’morrow night t’ see yez all agin.” 

He started to leave, but Blake said, “Oh, no, 
be a good sport, shake hands.” 

Mike did so, not unwillingly, it seemed; then 
he walked over to Sandy and Sam and ad¬ 
dressed them in a sentence: “You curs—stick 
t’ these high-toned half-breeds ’f yuh want to.” 
He left the room. Sandy and Sam soon fol¬ 
lowed, when they thought no one was looking. 

On the following evening the Town Hall, 
which stands near the little white church, was 
filled with villagers and a few city guests. All 
eagerly waited for the drawing of the cur¬ 
tain, which parted in the middle and was pulled 
back from either side, in the immemorial man¬ 
ner of Town Hall curtains. The more timid 
men and boys from the back streets and farther 
up in the hills stood along the wall in the rear. 

The young people had purchased the usual 



The Minstkel Show 


93 


supply of peanuts and conversational lozenges. 
Long legged youths handed or tossed them to 
their sweethearts, with such messages in red 
lettering as love you,’’ Throw me a kiss,” 
or ^‘Meet me when the moon comes up.” The 
girls would affect indignation, or bashfulness, 
yet they tucked their messages away in some 
treasure place on their persons. Everyone was 
in high glee, for this was the first minstrel show 
ever held in the village. These people were 
as much excited as though a circus had come 
to town. 

The Livingstone boys were on hand; their 
mother was with them and Sally, Sandy’s 
daughter, sat beside her, deeply disappointed. 
She had expected her father would be there and 
be a performer. Never had she and her mother 
been so happy as during the past two weeks, 
when the father was spending his evenings at 
the Bearfoot Inn for rehearsals, rather than 
at Mike’s den. That had been the only thing 
he had done of late to please them. Sandy, in 
his own circle, had the reputation of being a 
‘‘card.” 

Gray and Blake remembered Mike’s words 
of the night before: “I’ll be ’round t’-morrow 
night t’ see yez agin.” Just how they should 
interpret that promise was a question. It could 
be taken either way; back in peace or back to 
fight it out. 

They rather thought he meant to fight, for 



94 


The Mysteey oe Khh-ja-muck Cave 


those who knew Mike Murphy best were sure 
the feud was just begun. That was the expec¬ 
tation of Sally, and her mother had not dared 
to come, fearing a greater disgrace would fall 
on her already weakened body and broken 
spirit. Eager faces watched the door and every 
newcomer caused a thrill of fear to pass over 
the audience. 

Blake was in the center of the stage; on the 
right Cray, Rob, Cal and Isaiah, with Sam’s 
chair vacant; on the left were Ward, Lou, 
Milt and Tom Livingstone, with Sandy’s chair 
vacant. The faces of all were well blackened, 
and their clothing was of fancy colors with 
gaudy stripes. 

As the curtains were pulled back the audi¬ 
ence cheered loudly, for only a look at each 
performer was a show in itself to these people. 
They eagerly scanned each figure for some 
mark of identification. 

In walked Mary Arnold, the other school 
teacher, on the left, and Mattie on the right, 
both stepping in lively fashion and keeping 
perfect time. They were dressed in southern 
plantation style, and after frisking about for 
a moment in some Topsy manoeuverings, came 
to a stand before the chairs left empty by the 
non-appearance of Sandy and Sam, who had 
hitherto been faithful, if not over-enthusiastic, 
members of the chorus. Keeping time, one 



The Minsteel Show 


95 


with a red and the other with a green parasol, 
Mary and Mattie started the opening song. 

The jokes and choruses were full of life and 
laughter, each being encored with great gusto 
by the audience. Milt Boyd had at last per¬ 
suaded Gray that he could march in step to 

John Brown’s Body,” and with a broad grin 
of delight on his countenance, the lumbering, 
awkward woodsman strutted back and forth. 
Lou Fountain, second best josher in Oren- 
daga, whom everyone called a “limb,” played 
the mouth organ, and Isaiah Pikes the jew’s- 
harp. The whistling chorus with Paul Ward 
playing an obligato on the flute was also a 
great hit. 

Just before the last number in the show, old 
Uncle David stepped from behind the curtain 
and stood at the front of the platform. 

“Dear friends,” he said, “we’ve all been 
entertained to-night in a happy way. There’s 
a sayin’ that ‘a merry heart doeth good like 
medicine,’ an’ after this splendid minstrel 
show we all realize, I think, that times of good 
fellowship like this must be more frequent in 
Orendaga than they have been. Th’ people you 
see here on this platform have worked hard 
holdin’ rehearsals, an’ I rejoice to say that it’s 
all been for a noble purpose. 

“School’s meant a lot more to th’ children 
of Orendaga than it ever did before. It’s goin’ 
to mean more yet, for an orchestra has been 



96 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


organized an’ instruments for th’ boys an’ girls 
to play on have been bought, thanks to Mr. 
Gray. All those present who think that this is 
a worthy cause, an’ who desire to have a part 
in payin’ for the instruments to be used by our 
children, may leave your contributions with 
those pickaninnies standin’ at th’ door.” 

Uncle David had scarcely finished speaking 
when Mike Murphy entered and strode up the 
aisle, followed by several of the Tamerack 
gang. Those at the minstrel show who remem¬ 
bered the Tamerack chieftain’s threat to come 
back to the hall had been fearful all evening, 
hoping that the clash would not come that 
night. It now appeared that their worst fears 
were to be realized. 

The audience was dumbfounded. Not a word 
was spoken while Mike and his followers lined 
up in front of Uncle David, who had not moved 
from his position on the platform. Mike was 
the first to speak. 

‘‘Uncle David,” he said, and then hesitated. 
“Uncle David, me an’ Sam, an’ Sandy, an’ 
these other fellers thet used t’ b’long t’ th’ 
Tamerack group wants a part in this here min- 
str’l show. We come up here t’ practice las’ 
night, ’s yuh prob’ly know, an’ I swore I’d be 
here t’night. Well, here I be. Didn’t come in 
afore ’count o’ not wantin’ t’ scare nobody.” 

Mike paused again and looked around at the 
rest of his gang, who shifted uneasily. 



The Minstkel Show 


97 


‘‘Mebbe yub don’t know it,” be continued, 
^‘but my place was raided las’ nigbt. There 
ain’t goin’ t’ be no more Temp’ranee Parlor, 
an’ I dunno but I’m kind o’ glad on it. ’Pears 
like there ain’t no place fer a feller like me in 
Orendaga right now.” 

As Mike talked, Gray observed a slinking 
glance directed at himself from time to time. 
Once he thought he detected a thinly veiled 
sneer, but it was so quickly hidden as to be un- 
noticeable to one who was not watching for it. 

‘‘Us fellers ain’t come fer revenge,” went 
on Mike. “When Mike Murphy’s licked in a 
square fight, he owns up t’ it ’cause he ain’t 
no squealer. I want t’ tell you fellers I ain’t 
got hard feelin’s ’gin yuh, an’ I hope yuh ain’t 
got ’em ’gin me.” 

As he finished, Sam and Sandy shuffled up 
to Gray and asked, with much hemming and 
hawing, to be allowed to make up for their be¬ 
havior the night before. 

Murphy, however, turned on his heel and 
stalked out of the room. Just as he passed 
through the doorway, he looked over his shoul¬ 
der at Gray, who had been watching his exit. 
Prom the eyes of the suddenly reformed boot¬ 
legger shot a glare of such malevolence and 
slumbering hatred that Gray involuntarily 
started. Before he could recover his com¬ 
posure, Murphy had gone. 


D 



CHAPTER VII. 


THE QUEST BEGINS 

If thou wilt be a hero, and wilt strive 
To help thy fellow and exalt thyself, 

Thy feet at last shall stand on jasper floors; 

Thy heart, at last, shall seem a thousand hearts— 

Each single heart with myriad raptures filled— 

While thou shalt sit with princes and with kings. 

Rich in the jewel of a ransomed soul. 

S CHOOL was over, vacation had begun, and 
the closing days of June were bright, giv¬ 
ing promise of a glorious summer. Gray 
was eager to be away to the woods, now that 
his part in helping Mattie and Blake to create 
a new social life in Orendaga had been fulfilled. 
Everything he had done in the little village had 
served to lay an excellent foundation for his 
difficult undertaking. He had come to know 
the country better as a result of his many short 
excursions into nearby haunts, and his friend¬ 
ship with the Orendaga guides he felt to be 
lasting and durable. With the assistance of 
Blake, he could now arrange a definite pro¬ 
gram for the winning of Louie Lament and the 
search for the ^‘Spirit of the Kun-ja-muck.’^ 
Gray’s two months’ stay at Orendaga had 
made him a new^ man. He had climbed all the 


98 


The Quest Begins 


99 


surrounding Mils, and some of the more dis¬ 
tant mountains—Snowy, Speculator, Hamilton 
and Turtle. In mountain climbing he found 
himself able to hold his own with most of the 
native guides and woodsmen. 

In appearance, he was totally unlike the man 
whom Joe had spotted as a ‘‘city yap” at the 
Northville station. With the red and black 
flannel shirt of the woodsman, corduroy trou¬ 
sers, high lumberman's boots and a red ban¬ 
danna around his neck, he looked like an old 
timer. His face had lost its indoor whiteness; 
in its stead was the brown, healthy looking 
complexion given to man only by the sun, wind 
and outdoor exercise. 

No trace of broken nerves could be seen in 
the man. His step was elastic, his form erect. 
The worn and indifferent expression which was 
habitual to his face when he left the city had 
given way to a cheerful smile and a hopeful 
countenance. Every muscle of his body had 
been brought into play,, toughened and hard¬ 
ened. 

Canoeing was one of Gray’s favorite pas¬ 
times, for it usually included a second person 
—either Mattie or Blake, and sometimes both. 
One of his best loved trips was a paddle 
through Lake Pleasant into the half-mile 
stream leading into Sacandaga. Both of these 
lakes were like jewels in evergreen settings. 
The islands, bays, and beaches of glistening 




100 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mijck Cave 


white sand were like will-o’-the-wisps, calling 
one to the beautiful beyond. On they would 
paddle, with new horizons ever in view. 

Landing in a tiny cove. Gray and his com¬ 
panion, whoever it might be, would take the 
canoe on their shoulders and follow a trail to 
still other lakes and streams. It was but a 
quarter of a mile from Lake Sacandaga to 
Fawn Lake, and then, following a winding 
trail, they continued through Vly Lake and 
down the stream to Fall Lake, thence to Ox 
Bow and Piseco. The region fascinated Gray, 
and he was impatient to push his explora¬ 
tions farther. 

Gray and Blake had just finished a three- 
day paddle test in preparation for the longer 
journey to the West Canada lake region where 
they hoped to locate Louie Lament and from 
him learn something of the mystery of the 
Kun-ja-muck. 

Blake was satisfied that Gray could make 
the long trip, carrying his pack, blanket and 
gun without overdoing. 

Gray treasured every incident of Louie’s 
shrewdness and skill in woodcraft, that he 
might be better prepared to meet the strange 
old trapper. Often the guides, gathered at the 
Inn to while away the evening, served Gray as 
vast storehouses of information upon which 
he might draw almost at will. 

‘‘Don’t yuh r’member, ’Saiah,” said Cal one 



The Quest Begins 


101 


evening when the guides were all assembled 
about the fire and the talk centered about the 
peculiar Frenchman, ^Hhat summer when we 
was up F th’ Dug Mountain ponds after trout, 
an’ we found ol’ Louie up thar"? He’d built 
a lean-to out’n fir trees, an’ was jest finishin’ 
three bunks full o’ balsam twigs. Had a mess 
o’ trout all cleaned an’ laid ’tween basswood 
leaves ready fer cookin’. We was right glad 
t’ see him, but he didn’t say nothin’ ’cept that 
grunt o’ his. Kind o’ looked like we wa’n’t 
welcome an’ jest buttin’ in.” 

‘‘That’s jest like Louie,” broke in Blake. 
“ ’F he don’t want yuh ’round yuh’ll soon 
know it. ’ ’ 

“That extry bunk looked funny t’ me, some¬ 
how. Who was it fer ^ ’F Louie had visitors 
where was they hidin’? Us fellers know bet¬ 
ter ’n t’ ask Louie. Pretty soon he come up 
near, an’ ’Saiah spoke up ’n asked me ’f I 
thought we better stay thar over night. I says 
‘Guess we best go on down stream ’til we git 
t’ whar they’s little more shelter.’ Louie 
didn’t say nothin’ but jest walked ’round th’ 
fire, waitin’ fer us t’ move ’long ’thout his 
sayin’ so. Heaps o’ times ’fore that both me 
an’ ’Saiah has stayed at Louie’s cabin up th’ 
Kun-ja-muck, an’ he was allers alone, an’ 
allers glad t’ see us.” 

Isaiah hitched his chair round to face the 
group of guides more squarely. 



102 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


Twa’nT hard t’ see that Louie was pro¬ 
tectin’ somethin’ or somebody fr’m strangers.” 

‘^Do you think the man of the Kun-ja-muck 
Cave could have been with Louie?” asked 
Gray. 

Isaiah took upon himself the duty of 
replying. 

‘‘Waal, that’s th’ question. We dunno, an’ 
they’s no way o’ findin’ out fr’m Louie. Jest 
leave it t’ that feller t’ keep a secret.” 

“What gits me,” interrupted Cal, “was th’ 
fact that Louie had somebody thar that got 
fust place with him, even ’fore me an’ ’Saiah. 
Us two is his oldest friends, too. We been his 
friends ever since he come t’ these parts.” 

Cal paused and looked significantly at 
Isaiah. It was apparent that there was some¬ 
thing further, about which the two men were 
hesitant of speaking. 

As if in answer to a question from Cal, 
Isaiah said, “ Yuh best tell ’em. Cal. Gray an’ 
Jack needs all th’ information they c’n git.” 

Cal thought for a moment, and then pro¬ 
ceeded slowly with his story. 

“Me an’ ’Saiah did think o’ that Kun-ja- 
muck feller when we seen them two extry 
bunks. He got up ’nough courage t’ ask Louie 
’f th’ stranger did any huntin’. They was 
two guns an’ fishin’ poles thar. Waal, Louie’s 
eyes snapped up an’ he looked kind o’ ugly 
fer a minute. He stood up straight an’ 



The Quest Begins 


103 


snarled, ‘None yore beezness,’ an’ then went 
over t’other side th’ fire an’ squatted down. 
01’ Louie wa’n’t mad fer long, though. Pretty 
soon he spoke up an’ says, ‘ Some day you know, 
not know now. ’ 

“We knew th’ color o’ Louie’s blankets, 
too,” continued Cal. “but ’sides his they was 
two other bundles o’ good clean blankets. 
Looked t’ us like they was two people stayin’ 
with Louie, an’ it ’peared like they wasn’t 
used t’ th’ woods, neither. Me an’ ’Saiah never 
said a word ’bout this b’fore. ’Twa’n’t no use. 
Seemed funny they was two of ’em ’stead o’ 
one like we allers thought.” 

These discussions among the guides had 
given Gray a fairly good idea of Louie’s 
strange ways, and of what to expect when the 
old French trapper was met face to face. 
Gray now knew his favorite trapping haunts 
and fishing grounds, and also the location of 
the two cabins which the hunter used. One of 
these was on West Canada Lake, where Louie 
usually spent the summer months; the winter 
cabin was on the Kun-ja-muck River at the 
point where the main trail crossed, northeast 
of Owl Pond. 

Everything seemed to indicate that Louie 
was someone’s protector, and this someone 
could only be the mysterious dweller of the 
cave, or, as it now appeared, the two persons 
who had lived in such secrecy. 



104 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


Gray questioned in his own mind whether 
the Kun-ja-muck Cave could be inhabited by 
a person who had been able to remain undis¬ 
covered for so long a time by the guides and 
woodsmen of the region. How could this per¬ 
son secure supplies, except through someone 
like Louie? Where could he disappear to at 
the approach of strangers? Gray had pon¬ 
dered these things ever since the beginning of 
his stay in Orendaga, and he was no nearer to 
a conclusion now than he had been two months 
before. 

Far into the night Gray sat in his room 
alone, thinking over all the strange things he 
had learned. He was especially puzzled by 
the influence that had apparently changed 
Louie from a hardened and piratical trapper 
to a man of kindliness and generosity. Louie 
was certainly a fascinating problem. Even 
the people of Orendaga were very much be¬ 
wildered by his gradual metamorphosis. Some 
looked upon him as a miracle of nature’s work¬ 
ing, a theory that precluded the influence of 
any mysterious being, even such a one as was 
reputed to live in the Kun-ja-muck Cave. 
Others saw an unknown force lifting him from 
the lower levels of life to a higher plane of 
gentleness and helpfulness. It was as though 
Louie were living with someone endowed with 
the mysticism of an ancient prophet. Only a 
powerful force could transform a poor, igno- 



The Quest Begins 


105 


rant half-breed, a wanderer with vicious habits 
which were inherent in his nature, into one who 
called the thunder of the mountain storms the 
voice of God. 

If the man of the Kun-ja-muck Cave had 
any part in bringing about this transformation 
in Louie, argued Gray to himself, why did he 
remain hidden ? 

As Gray continued to turn these questions 
over in his mind, he heard a light rap on his 
bedroom door. He opened it to see Blake 
standing just outside. The woodsman did not 
wait for an invitation to enter, but helped him¬ 
self to a chair with an air of perfect fa¬ 
miliarity. 

‘^Saw yuh’re light,,’’ he said, shortly, ^‘an’ 
thought I’d come up ’n keep yuh comp’ny fer 
a while. What’s on yer mind t’nightYuh’d 
oughter been t’ bed hours ago.” 

‘‘That’s so,” replied Gray with a smile, “but 
what’s the matter with you You’re prowling 
around as though it were seven o’clock in the 
morning, and it happens to be only two.” 

Blake answered him with a laugh, “Been up 
all night tryin’ t’ see through that myst’ry 
business. Thought ’f I worked ’lone fer a spell 
I might git some good idee. But th’ longer 
I worked th’ farther I got, an’ so I quit no 
more’n a couple o’ minutes ago an’ come over 
here.” 

“Well,” said Gray, “at times I’ve felt like 



106 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


rushing into the woods and searching out every 
trail that Louie frequents, or standing at the 
entrance of the Kun-ja-muck Cave until I have 
solved the whole thing. But I know that would 
defeat the very end for which we are working, 
and I Ve tried to wait patiently here in the vil¬ 
lage so as to gather all the available informa¬ 
tion on the subject, before entering the wil¬ 
derness.’’ 

’Spose we think o’ this myster’ous feller o’ 
th’ cave fer a minute,” said Blake. “ ’P we 
wanted t’ git up a big huntin’ party an’ go 
after him, I recken we c’d run him down or 
corner him right soon. Some fellers here in th’ 
village wanted t’ do that ’fore yuh come, but 
Uncle David said as how that’d only drive 
away th’ man we was after, so they didn’t.” 

‘‘I think our present plan is a fairly good 
one,” returned Gray. ‘‘You and I will make 
our trip into the West Canada lake region and 
try to locate Louie there. If that is unsuc¬ 
cessful we’ll take the outfit up the Kun-ja- 
muck and make a permanent log camp half 
way between the cave and Louie’s cabin, some¬ 
where near the trail. 

“Then, to have some purpose that will ex¬ 
plain our going into every nook and corner 
of that region, I will make a special study of 
the birds and animals of the woods. I have 
sent for some special camera attachments, built 
for the purpose of taking animal pictures at 



The Quest Begins 


107 


close range. That will keep ns busy, and I 
think it may interest Louie in our experi¬ 
ments.’’ 

Blake nodded a vigorous assent. ^ ‘ Jest what 
we need t’ git Louie t’ pay some attention t’ 
us. Th’ gun wouldn’t ’tract him, but some¬ 
thin’ new like that camera business oughter 
do it. An’ ’f we jest hung ’roimd doin’ nothin’ 
he’d git ’spicious.” 

A tinge of light green crept into the eastern 
sky. The men were so engrossed in talk that 
they lost all count of hours. As dawn broke 
they separated, agreeing to meet at dinner to 
complete arrangements for the start of their 
trip on the morrow. 

At the noonday meal Blake announced his 
intention of packing the baskets for the trip 
that afternoon, selecting the fishing tackle, and 
getting all their supplies in shape for an early 
start the next morning. Gray, for his part, 
had decided upon a final visit with Mattie and 
Uncle David. 

With Mattie, he walked up to ^^Pinesides” 
to see whether the Livingstone boys would go 
with Blake and himself for part of the journey, 
so as to bring back the canoes when their fur¬ 
ther use became impracticable. Tom and Bill 
were overjoyed at the idea, and promised to 
be on hand for the start early in the morning. 

Gray and Blake long remembered their leave 
taking at the Bearfoot Inn. The sun had crept 



108 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muck Cave 


only a little way above the horizon when they 
gathered together their packs, baskets and 
other equipment. Uncle David and Mattie 
bustled about, bringing forgotten trifles to the 
two men. As the hour decided upon for start¬ 
ing drew near. Cal,, Isaiah, Eob Stevens and 
Paul Ward dropped in, and shortly afterward 
Mrs. Livingstone came with Tom and Bill. 
The boys were in a flurry of excitement. 

All assisted in helping Gray and Blake carry 
their supplies down to the lake, and in loading 
the canoes. Little was said while flnal prepa¬ 
rations were being made. All realized that the 
distance to be covered was short, without need 
of heroic effort or personal sacriflce. The task 
needed only common sense. There was an ex¬ 
change of hand clasps, a few spoken words of 
farewell—and the quest had begun. 



CHAPTER VIII. 


THE TRAIL TO WEST CANADA LAKE 

Here is a story book 

Thy father hath written for thee— 

Come wander with me, she said, 

Into regions yet untrod. 

And read what is still unread 
In the manuscript of God. 

— Longfellow. 

T he next night found Gray and Blake 
resting comfortably in an open log camp 
on the mountain side overlooking Little 
Moose Pond. During the day they had pad- 
died through Lakes Pleasant and Sacandaga, 
landing on the sandy beach in Northwest Bay. 
The Livingstone boys left the two men at the 
bay, taking the canoes back to Orendaga. 
When Blake located the trail leading into the 
heart of the wilderness, the men shouldered 
their packs and began the long hike to West 
Canada Lake. 

Pawn Lake and Big Brook were soon be¬ 
hind them, and at noon a hasty lunch was eaten 
on the banks of the Jessup Eiver. It was their 
plan to camp that night on Sampson Lake, 
but the shelter on the Little Moose, which they 


109 


110 


The Mystery of Kxjh-ja-mtjck Cave 


had found about four o’clock in the afternoon, 
looked so inviting that Blake proposed a halt, 
and Cray acquiesced. The guide did not wish 
Gray to overdo himself on the first day of the 
journey, and the younger man, though hard¬ 
ened in muscle and capable of great endurance, 
was glad to ease his heavy pack to the ground. 

After a bounteous supper of great northern 
pike which they caught in the Little Moose, 
the men sat beside the back-log fire that burned 
brightly in front of the open camp. Naturally 
their talk turned on their trip and their an¬ 
ticipations. 

^MVe been on many a huntin’ trip,” said 
Blake, ^‘but this here is a new experience. 
We’ll prob’ly kill somethin’ when we need 
food, but we ain’t out t’ kill an’ nothin’ else. 
We want t’ see what’s alive—” His voice 
trailed away into silence. 

The sun had dropped behind the mountains, 
and only the peaks of the Blue Ridge and Pot¬ 
ash ranges caught its last bright rays. The 
deepening grayness of evening covered the val¬ 
leys, and all of nature prepared to rest for the 
night. The melodious call of the quail, and 
later the weird hoot of the owl broke the still¬ 
ness of dusk. As the crackling and snapping 
of the fire gave way to a glowing warmth of 
embers, they rolled up in their blankets and 
lay down on the fragrant beds of balsam which 
covered the floor of the camp. 



The Tkail to West Canada Lake 


111 


After an hour or more of quiet, Gray whis¬ 
pered, ^^Are you asleep?’’ 

^‘No,” replied Blake, softly, ‘‘I can’t go t’ 
sleep fer thinkin’ ’bout what we might find 
t’morrow. Didn’t know I owned any nerves 
’til I discovered ’em t’night.” 

^ ‘ I was just thinking, ’ ’ went on Gray, ‘ ‘ about 
this log camp. Who, do you suppose, went to 
all the trouble to make it so substantial and 
complete? Someone surely had an eye for 
beauty when they picked this spot on the moun¬ 
tain side. The view from this point across 
the valley and Little Moose Pond is remark¬ 
able.” 

‘‘Whoever ’twas, they sure was lookin’ out 
fer other people,” was Blake’s rejoinder. 
“Once heard a feller say that was th’ spirit o’ 
th’ Adirondacks. Tuh’ll find camps like this 
in heaps o’ out-th’-way places.” 

“Perhaps Louie and the man of the cave 
built it,” suggested Gray. 

“Mebbe they did. I know Louie’s put up 
more ’n one camp like this. ’Twouldn’t sur¬ 
prise me none ’f he built it so’s other folks 
could use it when they come this way.” 

“He must know all these lakes, streams and 
trails the way some of us know the city streets, ’ ’ 
observed Gray. 

“He sure does. His fav’rite spots is on 
Wes’ Canada Lake, though, an’ th’ Oregon 
country up th’ Kun-ja-muck. We c’n be pretty 



112 The Mysteky of Kijh-ja-mijck Cave 


sure o’ findin’ him up this way ’bout now, but 
I reckon we’ll have t’ hunt ’round some, first. 
We’ll try t’ trace him fr’m his cabin on th’ 
lake. ’P we don’t find him thar, we’ll go on 
fer a ways—build our fires whar other folks 
has camped an’ sleep whar balsam beds is 
already made. We c’n fish an’ go explorin’ 
’round this here region ’til yuh git t’ be 
’quainted with it. An’ every once ’n a while 
we’ll go back t’ Louie’s cabin. Might meet 
him thar ’most any time. An ’f he’s thar—” 

^^And if he’s there^” repeated Gray. He 
looked at Blake, just barely visible in the faint 
glow from the fire. Both men smiled, then 
settled down in their blankets. 

The next morning they were up at dawn, and 
after a delicious breakfast of broiled fish, 
bread and cofiee, they started down the trail. 
The air was bracing, full of the tonic of the 
woods. Wind fragrant with the odor of the 
tamaracks and balsams swept about them. The 
sun was warm when it fell through an opening 
in the trees; in the deeper forest it shone as a 
misty radiance in the treetops. 

Climbing on, over the ever winding trail. 
Gray reviewed much of his life since he first 
came to Orendaga. The way was too rough for 
much talking, and the silence of the woods fos¬ 
tered silence in man. Now and then the 
raucous call of a crow echoed among the rocks, 
breaking upon Gray’s thoughts fitfully. 



The Trail to West Canada Lake 


113 


Blake led the way over the narrow trail. He 
was becoming, indeed, a guide in many things 
to Byron Gray. He was such a superb figure 
of manhood! Tall, with the graceful propor¬ 
tions of an athlete, there was something of the 
greatness of nature in his personality. Per¬ 
haps it was the sincerity of the man, for, after 
all, there are fewer traits of character more 
sublime. His face had a rugged strength, with 
eyes large and deep under a broad, intelligent 
brow. A scattering of freckles on his cheeks 
gave him an expression that was almost boyish. 

Rarely enough one finds a man who, uncon¬ 
sciously and without effort, attracts others to 
himself, and who, in his friendship, draws out 
the best in the lives of his companions. With 
such a man one becomes one’s truest self, 
whether in thought, word or deed, for the 
deepest springs of life are touched by affection. 

And so Gray found in Jack Blake some¬ 
thing he had never before found in a man. He 
had many friends in different parts of the 
world, but his friendship with Blake was un¬ 
like any other friendship—^he had not felt so 
strangely affectionate toward a man in many 
years. 

Gray was seeing into Blake more clearly 
every day. The woodsman was a man of prac¬ 
tical vision who saw life at its best. He under¬ 
stood true values, was master of his life’s pro¬ 
gram in as full a sense as he was master of the 



114 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mijck Cave 


lumbermen on the river. Conditions and pres¬ 
sures from the outside world did not change 
his decisions concerning the essentials of life 
and the riches that endure. 

Cray saw it all. He visualized the two 
worlds: one, a whirling,, struggling welter, an 
empty bauble when it was taken as the whole 
of life; the other world he was just beginning 
to know fully. A vital faith in his fellow man, 
a keen enthusiasm for life and adventure had 
gripped his soul. Cray was seeing this new 
world most fully through Jack Blake, for the 
lumberman, in his sincerity and integrity, 
seemed a part of the woods and lakes and sky. 

On the two men trudged, following the faint 
trail which was almost lost to sight at times. 
It was a bright day and the climbing sun sent 
bright streaks of light through the forest, re¬ 
vealing the splendid beauty of tree and wild 
flower. The superb symmetry and perfection 
of the balsam trees were magnified in the glory 
of the morning; the delicate grace of the white 
birch stood out in startling contrast to the 
sombre pines, surrounded by dogwood and 
laurel in full bloom. The air was sweetened 
with the incense offered up on myriad petalled 
altars. Up hill and through dale they went, 
never slackening their gait except to climb over 
a fallen tree or to make certain of the trail. 

At noon they reached Sampson Lake, a beau¬ 
tiful body of water backed up by densely 



The Tkah. to West Canada Lake 


115 


wooded hills rising to a height of two thousand 
feet. Blake found a flat-bottomed boat in the 
bay on the southeast shore of the lake, only a 
few feet from the end of the trail. It was a 
rough affair, undoubtedly built by someone on 
a Ashing party and then abandoned. The two 
men found it seaworthy, and, loading their 
packs in one end, made for the larger of the 
two islands which lay in the lake. As Blake 
paddled. Gray made a cast with his Ashing line 
and was rewarded with an immediate strike. 
By the time Blake had navigated as far as 
the island, Gray’s catch amounted to three 
pickerel and two perch. 

On reaching the island they discovered a 
lean-to with three bunks which had been re¬ 
cently fllled with balsam. A little at one side 
was a flreplace which looked as though it had 
been used that morning, or, at the earliest, the 
evening before. Searching for other signs of 
the camp’s occupancy, they presently discov¬ 
ered that three persons had made up the party 
who had last been there. Footprints in the 
sand at the shore caught Blake’s eye. The 
three tracks were very different from, each 
other. Blake pointed out to Gray the marks 
of a short, stubby foot. 

Louie Lament!” he said, an eager light 
shining in his eyes. c’d tell it any place!” 

With great care they examined the other 
prints. One betrayed a long, narrow foot that 



116 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


stepped with a quick movement and a slight 
push of the heel. The other track was much 
smaller and shorter. 

‘^Big one b’longs t’ a man,” said Blake, 
studying the marks. ^‘That small one’s what 
gits me—couldn’t o’ weighed more ’n a hun- 
dr’d’n twenty.” 

‘‘I wonder who it could have been?” asked 
Gray. Was it the son of the man with Louie, 
or possibly the wife or daughter?” 

‘M’m stuck,” said Blake, frankly. ‘‘That 
third track ain’t a woman’s, er else th’ first one 
ain’t Louie’s. I’ve seen him go ’cross th’ street 
er dodge ’round a corner so’s he wouldn’t have 
t’ meet a woman. This here looks awful funny 
t’ me.” 

“Time will tell,” laughed Gray. 

“Dunno’s it will,” replied Blake, seriously. 
“Louie’s got a instinct like a bear. He could ’ve 
disappeared after he heard us cornin’ over th’ 
hill.” 

“Bo you think we were that close to them?” 

“Big down inf th’ ashes o’ th’ fire,” ad¬ 
vised the woodsman. “ See ’f thar’s any heat. ’ ’ 

Gray began to investigate, first lifting off 
the half burned embers and then scraping away 
the black coals and ashes beneath. 

“There’s no heat,” he reported, “but the 
ground is wet—” 

‘ ‘ I see, ’ ’ was Blake’s comment. ‘ ‘ They made 
sure o’ th’ fire bein’ out ’fore they started. 



The Teail to West Canada Lake 


117 


Probly they didn’t know we was cornin’, an’ 
only wanted t’ guard ’ginst forest fire. We 
might be all wrong, too. Mebbe they come in 
fr’m th’ north b’ way o’ Saratoga an’ Indian 
Lake. ’F I didn’t know fer sure that Louie 
made that footprint, I might think this here 
camp was used by some fishin’ party or some¬ 
thin’ like that.” 

^^They’re pretty good woodsmen, at any 
rate, ’ ’ said Gray. ^ ^ There’s not even a fish head 
thrown on the ground. And the wood they 
didn’t need is piled up neatly for the ones who 
follow them. This Adirondack Park surprises 
me, Jack. It hasn’t anything to make it fa¬ 
mous, no hot springs, great mountain peaks, 
or canyons; there’s just commons, woods, 
hills and lakes. It’s a garden of wonder, 
nevertheless.” 

^‘Waal,” drawled Blake, ^Hhey’s thousands 
o’ people as passes it right by ’thout thinkin’ 
o’ what you jest mentioned.” 

^^I’ve been one of the passers-by too, Jack. 
Do you know, I thought that coming to the 
Adirondacks was the last bitter dose for me. 
These hills seemed to me to be like the best 
place to die off without being bothered by 
anxious relatives and friends. I’ve certainly 
found them a lot different, now that I’ve stayed 
long enough to see things as they are, and to 
get off the beaten path and live next to nature. ’ ’ 

Blake nodded in agreenient. He had shown 



118 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-muck: Cave 


some restlessness since the discovery of the 
footprints, and now suggested that the jour¬ 
ney be continued. 

‘‘We’d oughter hurry on t’ th’ west end o’ 
th’ lake. Thar’s whar th’ trail leadin’ t’ South 
an’ Wes’ Canada Lakes begins. We c’n eat 
a snack ’fore we start an’ save th’ fish fer a 
good meal t ’night. ’P we push right ’long we ’ll 
be t’ Louie’s cabin by five o’clock. There ain’t 
much chance o’ catchin’ up with them that was 
here, ’less they want comp’ny pretty bad.” 

“I wish we could meet them,” said Gray. 
“We have fish enough for five, all right.” 

Blake chuckled. “Don’t think yuh’d be 
off’rin’ ’em a treat, with pick’rel an’ perch. 
They prob’ly been livin’ on th’ fat o’ th’ land, 
game in th’ woods an’ fish in th’ ponds.” 

Gray looked at his catch with a smile. “Just 
the same,” he said, “these look good to me. 
I’m hungry enough to eat them raw.” 

“Don’t doubt it,” agreed Blake, “I’m hun¬ 
gry m’self. But that’s th’ way in th’ woods.” 

With a final look at the tracks in the sand. 
Gray and Blake got into the rickety little boat, 
and soon landed on the farther shore of Samp¬ 
son Lake. 

Leaving the scene of their first clue to the 
mystery of the Kun-ja-muck Cave, although 
it had proved a very slender clue indeed, the 
two men kept up a steady pace over the trail. 
They had just come in sight of South Canada 



The Teail to West Canada Lake 


119 


Lake when Blake,, who was leading, stopped 
suddenly and held up his hand. 

^^Thar they go!’’ he whispered hoarsely, 
while Gray stopped with a jerk, as though 
someone had pulled him up with bit and bridle. 

For a moment Gray could see no reason for 
Blake’s action. The guide stood, with every 
muscle tense, peering ahead through the trees. 
There lay South Canada Lake, quiet and glis¬ 
tening in the afternoon sunlight. They had 
followed the east end trail, and, standing hid¬ 
den in the undergrowth, the entire length of 
the lake was visible. Both shores could be seen 
with a glance. 

Blake motioned for Gray to draw nearer. 

‘‘Thar they go!” he whispered again, point¬ 
ing to the north shore, about half way down 
the lake. 

Gray, peering in the direction indicated by 
Blake’s outstretched arm, saw what he least 
expected to see—the three persons who had 
made the footprints on the island. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE SURPRISE 

May every soul that touches mine, 

Be it the slightest contact, get therefrom some good. 

Some little grace, one kindly thought. 

One aspiration yet unfelt, one bit of courage 
For the darkening sky, one gleam of faith 
To brave the thickening ills of life; 

One glimpse of brighter sky beyond the gathering mist 
To make this life worth while 
And heaven a surer heritage. 

A S Gray and Blake stood there silently, 
side by side, they strained their eyes to 
make out the three people on the dis¬ 
tant shore. It would have been perfectly safe 
for them to speak in their usual tones, but the 
sudden apparition startled them. Like a scout 
of pioneer days, Blake stepped lightly and 
quickly to the rocky lake shore, motioning 
Gray to follow. They kept themselves from 
view and, finding a slight elevation where they 
could stand behind a large boulder, they 
watched every move made by the other party, 
perhaps a half mile away. 

They had just stepped from a canoe and were 
standing on the beach. Suddenly the smallest 
figure disappeared into the woods, leaving two 
men, one tall and the other of shorter stature. 
Picking up a couple of bundles which lay on 

120 


The Sueprise 


121 


the sand, they lay hold of the canoe, carried it 
into the underbrush, and also went out of sight. 

Blake faced his companion. ‘‘That’s them 
fer sure,” he said, with certainty. 

“But just who are they 1” asked Gray, more 
for the sake of saying something than from a 
desire for information. He was already posi¬ 
tive that the campers of Sampson Lake had 
been revealed to him. 

“Too far t’ be sure,” was Blake’s answer, 
“but ’f I ain’t mistaken, that shortest feller 
was Louie Lament, th’ one that left th’ middle 
size footprints on that island over t’ Sampson 
Lake.” 

“Yes, but who are the other two?” 

“I dunno. Mebbe some city feller an’ his 
son who’re goin’ t’ spend th’ summer in th’ 
woods. Or mebbe they been here all winter.” 

“Someone with shattered nerves or a deep 
set cough, I suppose,” Gray added. 

“I don’t think so,” replied Blake. “’Pa 
feller’s down an’ out he can’t rough it like that. 
’Sides, Louie wouldn’t guide everybody. I’m 
s’prised he’d stick so close to ’em as ’tis.” 

Blake stood with his eyes on the spot where 
they had disappeared. 

“Can you see anything?” whispered Gray, 
hoarsely. 

“Nope, they’re gone, but I was jest thinkin’ 
that if that feller’s Louie, he must’ve changed 
a heap. Don’t seem nat’ral fer him t’ be guid- 



122 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


in’ two strangers an’ sharin’ his camps with 
’em th’ way he’d have t’. Ynh can’t hire him 
with money, nsu’lly, an’ he won’t take a favor 
’less he c’n pay it back double right off.” 

‘‘Will it be wise,” queried Gray, “for us to 
follow them now, since we are so close?” 

“Sure,” replied Blake after a moment’s 
thought. “We’re doin’ th’ woods, an’ Louie 
oughter be ’s glad t’ see me ’s I’ll be t’ see 
him.” 

“Then you don’t think that the person with 
Louie is the man of the Kun-ja-muck Cave— 
and a—companion ? ’ ’ 

“I ain’t sure o’ what t’ think,” came the 
reply. “Two people with Louie kind o’ busts 
up our old idees, ’cause th’ cave man can’t be 
two. But ’f Louie’s protectin’ that mysterious 
feller, I don’t see what he’d be doin’ with two 
strangers—totin’ ’em ’round whar they’d allers 
be in th’ way. Louie’d nat’rally take th’ cave 
man with him when he moved t’ his summer 
camp.” 

Gray had a sudden idea. “If one of those 
people with Louie is the cave man. Jack, we’ll 
be sure to find Louie alone when we catch up 
with him. If those strangers are ordinary 
people who have simply engaged Louie as their 
guide, we’ll probably find them together, and 
there won’t be any signs of embarrassment in 
their party.” 

“Guess yuh’re right,” said Blake, quickly. 



The Suepeise 


123 


‘‘We won’t say we saw ’em fr’m here, or that 
we discovered any traces of ’em over t’ Samp¬ 
son Lake. We’ll look fer Louie first, an’ he 
glad ’f we see him. ’F we don’t ’spect t’ find 
any others we won’t he disappointed.” 

“How do you suppose Louie will receive me. 
Jack? I’ve never met him, and he may turn 
me down hard and cold.” 

“Waal,” deliberated Blake, “ther ain’t no 
tollin’. Yuh’ve jest got t’ wait an’ see.” 

“How would it he for me to give him the 
little gifts that the Livingstone hoys sent 
him?” proposed Gray. “Then you can give 
him the messages from them—^you know him 
and can talk more easily with him.” 

“Good idee,” said Blake, “an’ it oughter 
help us t’ git in with him.” 

“If we do find him alone,” went on Gray, 
“why not stay at his cahin if he’ll let us, and 
see if the strangers will show themselves—or 
don’t you think that wise ?” 

“Leave that t’ Louie,” laughed the other. 
“He’ll ask yuh t’ stay ’f he wants yuh, an’ if 
he don’t—yuh might’s well move on. That ol’ 
Frenchman’s lived in th’ world too long t’ he 
fooled. He’ll pertect his friends t’ th’ las’ 
gasp.” 

Blake paused and looked out over the lake 
reminiscently. 4 

“Cal tells a story ’hout Louie,” the woods¬ 
man continued, “that shows jest how faithful 



124 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muce: Cave 


lie c’n be t’ them he wants t’ pertect. Cal an’ 
Louie was after a deer. ’Twas three years ’go 
las’ November. One of ’em wounded a big 
buck an’ they was follerin’ him down th’ val¬ 
ley, up west o’ Dug Mountain lakes. Cal was 
goin’ t’ climb over a fallen tree—’twas late ’n 
th’ afternoon an’ th’ light wa’n’t much good. 
Waal, jest ’s Cal got his foot over th’ tree, 
Louie looked up an’ seen a wil’ cat on a branch 
right over Cal’s head. Th’ critter Was jest 
ready t’ spring at Cal when Louie hollers 
‘Back, Cal!’ Waal, jest ’s Louie hollers, th’ 
varmint leaps. Louie lifts his gun an’ fires 
quicker ’n a fiash—didn’t ’pear t’ take sight’t 
all. That wil’ cat falls right ’n th’ tree trunk 
whar Cal was standin’—^th’ critter was deader 
’n a doornail, bullet plumb through his heart. 
He’s got a eye like a hawk, that Frenchman, 
an’ ’f he’d fired a secon’ later—” Blake 
stopped, but the implication was emphatic. 
“Louie’ll stand by them people no matter what 
we do t’ find ’em, an’ we got t’ play in th’ open 
’thout tryin’ t’ take ’vantage of him.” 

“Do you think he’d try to conceal anyone ex¬ 
cept the man of the cave?” 

“No,” replied Blake, “I can’t think of any¬ 
body he’d want t’ hide, ’ceptin’ that Kun-ja- 
muck feller.” 

Blake began to pick up the packs they had 
dropped upon catching sight of the three per¬ 
sons across the lake. 



The Surpkise 


125 


‘‘This here lake’s ’bout a mile ’n a quarter 
long,” he observed, an’ th’ place whar them 
people landed mus’ be ’t th’ beginnin’ o’ th’ 
trail t ’ Wes ’ Canada Lake. We ’ll f oiler this trail 
’long th’ east side o’ th’ lake ’til we git whar 
they landed. ’F we find their boat in th’ bushes 
we’ll know they’re cornin’ back this way. ’F it 
ain’t thar we’ll know they carried it over t’ 
Wes’ Canada Lake an’ are goin’ up t’ Louie’s 
cabin. We’ll toiler th’ same trail an’ walk in 
on Louie after a while.” 

A few moments later the two were picking 
their way over the rocks and through the thick 
underbrush which covered the trail. 

They found the entrance to the north trail 
with little difficulty. Unfortunately, the rocky 
shore and thick grass hid all tracks. A fruit¬ 
less search for the boat forced them to believe 
it had been carried over the trail for use on 
the other lake. 

Following a well defined trail. Gray and 
Blake went over a long hill, and, for the last 
half mile, were able to double their speed down 
the gentle slope. Cautiously they approached 
West Canada Lake. Carefully scanning the 
shores for any sign of the party, the men 
worked down to the water’s edge. 

“Thar’s th’ island called Peaceful Haven,” 
said Blake, pointing to a beautifully wooded 
spot with a rocky and irregular shore. The 
sun was just setting in a flood of color, and the 



126 


The Mysteey of Kijh-ja-mtjck Cave 


deep, rich shadows of the mountains round 
about made it indeed a haven of peace and of 
wondrous beauty. 

Blake and Cray continued their course along 
the east trail to a wide bay where they could 
see beyond the island, along the north shore. 

In the fading light they again examined the 
distant shore. Above the trees to the left of 
Peaceful Haven Blake discovered a faint line 
of smoke, and called Cray’s attention to it. 

^‘Louie’s camp,” he said, laconically. 

They sat down on a nearby rock, discussed 
the best place to spend the night, and at length 
decided to remain where they were. Together 
they built a rough lean-to, Cray making two 
bunks under the simple shelter while Blake 
kindled a fire. Darkness fell upon them 
quickly, as it does where the mountains cut off 
the afterglow of the sunset. By the light of a 
pine torch, Blake prepared the evening meal. 

There was plenty to satisfy, and after they 
had eaten they sat and talked, the dickering 
light of the torch glowing in their faces. There 
in the heart of the mountains, where all nature 
seemed to harmonize, they called up bits of by¬ 
gone memories. They had been tired, but after 
the refreshing meal their spirits were quickly 
revived by the cool evening air. 

uTomorrow mornin’, ’roimd dawn, we’d 
oughter be t’ Louie’s camp,” said Blake. ’P 
they ain’t seen us we might take ’em by s’prise. 



The Suepeise 


127 


Louie c’n see in th’ dark like an owl, an’ he 
allers sleeps with one ear open. He knows 
every sound o’ th’ woods, an’ ain’t ’spicious 
o’ nothin’ ’ceptin’ man. So it’d be best fer us 
t’ meet him by daylight. ’F we c’n s’prise ’em 
they’ll have t’ tell us who they be.” 

Blake described the trail to Louie’s cabin, 
and after raking in the fire they lay down to 
sleep. The bed of balsam twigs never seemed 
more welcome to Gray. His double blanket 
was none too heavy, for night in the heart of 
the Adirondacks is surprisingly cold. Long 
after Blake gave signs of being asleep. Gray 
lay awake. He was too near Louie, and, per¬ 
haps, the man of the Kun-ja-muck Cave, to 
allow his nerves to settle into tranquil repose. 
His thoughts raced from one thing to another 
in anticipation of what the morrow might 
bring. With eyes closed he quietly rested, in 
a serious attempt to sleep. 

Blake was breathing heavily, apparently in 
deepest slumber. Gray’s eyes, however, fiashed 
open frequently. His mind would work quickly 
for a moment, even amid his best endeavors to 
sleep. As the hours passed he became less 
awake. 

It was well after midnight, he thought, when 
he was startled out of his drowsiness by hear¬ 
ing the name of Jack Blake spoken in a sibilant 
whisper. He sat up in his blankets with a jerk, 
listening intently for a repetition of the soimd. 



128 


The Mysteky of Kihst-ja-muck Cave 


As the silence of the woods continued un¬ 
broken, he realized that his action was folly, 
that the whisper was no more than the imagina¬ 
tion of an excited mind. 

The moon had risen and stood over the lake 
in a halo of beauty. Not a ripple disturbed the 
surface of the water, and the whole sleeping 
world was bathed in silvery light. The scene 
was so wonderful that he was tempted to waken 
Blake, but after a glance at the slumbering 
form he thought better of it. 

What a stillness creeps over the world that 
nature rules! There is power in every living 
thing;—growth, movement, light, air—and yet 
silence reigns, deep and mysterious, in the 
sublime witchery that is night. Was it the 
pressure of these active forces. Gray ques¬ 
tioned, that called him, for the memory of hav¬ 
ing heard the name of Jack Blake spoken was 
stamped upon his mind ? 

^‘Must have dreamed it,” he said under his 
breath, and snuggled down into his blanket 
again, determined to forget even the glorious 
moonlight. 

In the morning Blake awoke first, realizing 
that he had overslept. Dawn had passed into 
day. Sitting up, he blinked and looked about. 
There lay Gray, fast asleep—and nearer to his 
own bed lay a third person, covered with a 
hea^^ blanket! 

Although an old-fashioned woolen tam-o’- 




The Suepkise 


129 


sbanter covered the newcomer’s face, Blake 
recognized him in a flash, and in another mo¬ 
ment was standing by his side. 

Before Blake could speak, Louie Lament 
turned over and smiled, his big gray eyes 
speaking volumes. 

‘‘Whar’d yuh come from, Louie?” Blake 
greeted him. ^ ‘ Jest like yuh t ’ s ’prise us when 
we wa’n’t ’spectin’ it!” Blake’s voice was full 
of warmth. 

Gray heard the first <;^ord spoken, and sat 
up, too much astonished to say a word. Blake 
glanced at him as much as to say: ^‘We might 
have known it. You can’t get the best of 
Louie!” 

Louie twisted about so as to face Gray more 
squarely, giving him a friendly smile. 

‘‘I come dees camp las’ night,” said the trap¬ 
per in his imperfect English, ‘‘w’en moon flrs’ 
shine on lake.” He paused to give a low 
chuckle. ‘‘Dees boy hear me say ‘Jack Blake’ 
but t’ink he dream. I lay me down an’ mak 
no noise. He ees ver’ mooch worry.” The 
Frenchman chuckled again at the memory. 

Blake began to give Louie the messages 
which had been sent by the Livingstone boys 
and other villagers, while Gray busied him¬ 
self with the pack baskets, bringing forth the 
gifts for the old French trapper. 

During Louie’s accoimt of how he came and 
lay down by Blake in the night. Gray had ex- 



130 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-muck Cave 


amined Tiim closely. In the Frenchman’s 
manner he saw nothing of hostility or of un¬ 
friendliness, but only good will. Gray found 
his preconceived ideas slowly disappearing. 
How far, he wondered, would Louie’s friend¬ 
liness go? Would it lead Blake and himself 
straight to the heart of the mystery of the Kun- 
ja-muck, or would Louie become silent as the 
Sphinx when the mystery was discussed ? Gray 
noticed that Louie was very careful to make 
no reference to the persons with whom he was 
seen the afternoon before; and there was a cer¬ 
tain reserve in the trapper’s manner, a very 
slight air of secrecy, which made Gray doubt 
the advisability of asking any questions. Gray 
stood a little bit in awe of Louie. 

He hesitated a moment before approaching 
Louie with the gifts, then walked over to him 
with a friendly smile, proffering the few things 
sent by Bill, Tom and Louie’s other friends in 
Orendaga. There was the bone-handled himt- 
ing knife from the boys. Tears came to Louie’s 
eyes as he tested its blade with his thumb, 
examining it with the careful scrutiny of a 
woodsman. 

‘^Good boys,” he said, shortly. 

Cal had sent a box of assorted fishhooks, 
Isaiah a spool of silk line. Uncle David a red 
and black plaid shirt, and some of the children 
a box of candy. There was no mistaking 
Louie’s appreciation. A fiush came to that old 



The Surpeise 


131 


bronzed face; his glistening eyes and happy 
smile spoke the language of his heart. He 
looked over the gifts again and again, fondling 
each article until he laid it on top of his pack, 
which he had hung on a tree nearby, and with¬ 
out saying a word began to prepare breakfast. 
Jack started the fire while Louie pulled from 
his basket two partridges, ready for the pan. 

As they ate breakfast Louie spoke but little, 
except to ask a question now and then, or to 
make some comment on the camp. He seemed 
as much at home with Gray as with Blake; and 
Gray, quite to his own surprise, was equally 
at ease with the Frenchman. 

Breakfast was soon over. Each man picked 
up his pack, Louie leading the way with a brief 
‘‘Louie tak you camp.’’ Instead of following 
the shore as they had expected and hoped, he 
took them to a canoe, the one they had seen 
him beach on South Canada Lake the previous 
day. 

Louie did not paddle toward his cabin but 
instead rounded the corner of Peaceful Haven 
and entered a little bay, where they landed. 
He escorted them to a comfortable cabin made 
of rough hewn logs and containing three bunks, 
two short and one long. 

“Thees yore cabane,” he said to Gray, after 
showing the men its interior. Then he led 
Gray and Blake to a second small cove, a little 
way up the shore from the first. Uncovering 



132 


The Mystery op Kun-ja-muck Cave 


a canoe, made like the one they had just used, 
he told them it was theirs. 

Pointing to the lake, he said ‘‘Good water, 
ver’ mooch feesh. I go noWy come back soon.’’ 
Without further conversation he climbed into 
his canoe and paddled across the narrow chan¬ 
nel to the mainland. 

Blake faced Gray with an amused and quiz¬ 
zical light in his eyes. 

“Waal, what d’yuh know ’bout that?” 

“I believe,” replied Gray, “that the man of 
the cave is over there where Louie’s going. 
And we have about as much chance of meeting 
him as we have of shaking hands VTith the man 
in the moon!” 

“Yuh’re jest right,” said Blake, slowly. 
“Guess all we c’n do is keep our eyes an’ ears 
open, an’ wait ’n see what happens.” 

“This is certainly strange,” mused Gray. 
“He’s very friendly—^yet he’s the key to the 
mystery—and he leads us around. We do 
whatever he wills.” 

“That’s all we can do,” said the lumberman 
with an air of finality. “Thar ain’t no other 
way with Louie Lament. This here mystery 
ain’t goin’ t’ be solved in one day.” 



CHAPTEE X. 


THE ISLAND OP PEACEFUL HAVEN 

For God so loved the world, not just a few, 

The wise and great, the noble and the true. 

Or those of favored class or race or hue. 

God loved the world. Do you? 

God loved the sinful world, not just the good. 

Ah, none were good till they had understood 
His love for them, and felt the power that could 
Make all of life anew. 

God loved the world. He saw that we might be 
Made like Himself. He stooped to set us free 
And did not spare the cost of Calvary. 

God loved man so. Do we? 

—Grace E. Uhler, 

T he island of Peaceful Haven is thickly 
wooded with virgin pine and balsam, with 
an occasional feathery tamarack. Clus¬ 
ters of dogwood and sheep laurel, in the love¬ 
liness of full bloom, made the underbrush a 
beautiful mosaic. From the mainland shore it 
appeared like an isle of dreams. The turquoise 
of the water reflected every shadow, making 
the scene a veritable vision of paradise. White 
birches caught the sunlight in their leaves, then 
shivered it, an amber radiance, upon their 
gleaming limbs. 

The two friends sat in the old canoe, Blake 


133 


134 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-mitck Cave 


in the stern and Gray in the bow, their paddles 
resting across their knees. The surface of the 
lake was unwrinkled, a perfect mirror. 

‘‘I am convinced there is not a more beauti¬ 
ful spot in all the universe,” declared Gray. 
‘^It seems to me that the Creator Himself 
might have made this for His dwelling place.” 

Blake made no reply, but his silence was one 
of perfect agreement. 

‘‘Every day I see more clearly what Paul 
Ward means,” continued the younger man, 
“and what Livingstone meant by nature’s rev¬ 
elation of God. I knew that poets, dreamers 
perhaps, had a conception like that, but it al¬ 
ways seemed—far-fetched—^imreal. Before I 
came up here I used only to see a valley, or a 
sunset, or a flower—^nothing more. But now 
there is something more—something almost— 
divine—God-like—” He left the thought un- 
flnished, as though it were a profanation to 
speak further. 

Jack began to dip his paddle silently into 
the lake, sending the canoe swiftly ahead, cut¬ 
ting a wake of golden ripples which flashed in 
the sun. 

“How did this island get its name?” asked 
Gray as he stepped out on the white sand beach 
and helped draw up the canoe. “Peaceful 
Haven—the name is so fltting.” 

“It’s a kind o’ sad story,” replied Blake, as 
he gathered up the paddles, “but it’s true. I 



The Island of Peaceful Haven 


135 


met th' feller that named th’ island. He lived 
an’ died in our cabin over thar. Come up fr’m 
th’ city—^wa’n’t spectin’ t’ live long. He was 
a ’lectrical engineer, ’f I r’member right. Had 
a nigger servant that’d been in th’ fam’ly fer 
years. This engineer had plenty o ’ money, but 
he’d lost all his friends ’count o’ his condition 
—or anyways he imagined they’d all deserted 
him. He said he come up here t’ git away fr’m 
th’ world an’ t’ fergit everythin’. Isaiah 
brought ’em up fr’m Orendaga, an’ he says 
that when they come in o:ff’n th’ state road th’ 
engineer tried t’ git th’ ol’ nigger t’ go back 
t’ th’ city an’ leave him t’ die alone. 

^Hsaiah says that ol’ nigger jest shook like a 
leaf an’ begged his master t’ let him stay with 
him. ^Ah cain’t leab yuh, Massa Eudy,’ says 
th ’ darkie. ‘ We got t ’ trabbel de same road ter- 
gedah, an’ dat road ain’t long.’ 

^Hsaiah showed this feller some other places, 
but this here island was th’ only one he liked. 
Th’ darkie helped Isaiah build th’ cabin, an’ 
when they had it all done th’ nigger looked at it 
fer a minute an’ then calls over an’ says, ^Oh 
Massa Eudy, jes’ come an’ look here! His sure 
am de Peaceful Haven fer you. It sure am, 
Massa Eudy!’ Isaiah says th’ engineer went 
out t’ th’ point where th’ ol’ nigger was stand- 
in’ an’ looked ’round ’thout sayin’ anythin’. 
After a while he turns t’ th’ darkie an’ says, 
‘Joe, yuh’ve given it th’ right name—Peaceful 



136 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


Haven—an’ that’s what it’ll be t’ me an’ you 
fer th’ rest o’ our days.’ So that’s how th’ 
island got named.” 

Gray was not satisfied to have the story end 
there. ‘ ‘ Co on, ” he said. ^ ‘ How long did they 
live here?” 

“When yuh go back t’ Orendaga,” said 
Blake, “yuh c’n ask Isaiah t’ tell yuh all ’bout 
it. He knew ’em well—looked after their sup¬ 
plies an’ spent a lot o’ time with ’em up here 
’til th’ end come. We c’n walk up t’ th’ cor¬ 
ner o’ th’ island an’ see whar they’re buried, 
’f juh want.” 

Cray eagerly assented, and in a few moments 
the men were standing on an elevated point 
known as Croat Rock, beside which there were 
two graves. A small bronze tablet had been 
set in the rock, but there were no names or 
dates recorded—only a single line: “They 
found that the Peaceful Haven was the gate 
to Heaven.” 

The two friends stood in that sacred place, 
silent. There is in any burial place, and more 
especially in a plain and simple one, something 
that stirs refiection upon the ways of Cod and 
man. Here, where the winds of heaven blew 
freely and the sun shone warmly down upon 
the two rude graves, Cray and Blake felt the 
mystery that is life and the key to its solution, 
death. 

They walked slowly back to their cabin. 



The Island of Peaceful Haven 


137 


Suddenly Blake looked across the water, and 
threw up his arm in greeting. 

^‘Thar’s Louie, an’ his pack basket’s full,” 
exclaimed Blake. reckon he’s goin’ t’ 
spend th’ night with us.” 

Louie was paddling like an Indian, erect on 
his knees in the bottom of the canoe, silence 
in every dip and force in every stroke. He 
met them in front of the cabin, stooping under 
the weight of his pack, which rested snugly 
on his back. Sliding out of the straps and let¬ 
ting it rest for a moment on his right hip, the 
trapper swung his basket to the ground. 

‘‘ ’Bout wan o’clock,” he greeted them, after 
a glance at the sim and shadows. 

Gray looked at his watch and said, laugh¬ 
ingly, ^‘You’re nearly right, Louie. It’s ten 
minutes after one by my watch.” 

‘ ‘ No good tarn, ’ ’ remonstrated Louie. ‘ ^ Jus ’ 
wan hour an’ not mooch pas’. Grub for free 
in here,” indicating the pack. He began at 
once to prepare the meal, evidently having 
come to give Gray and Blake a treat. 

‘‘Yuh c’n help Louie,” suggested Blake to 
Gray, ‘‘an’ I’ll git th’ fire ready an’ fix up th’ 
table.” 

Each man did his best, but Louie was un¬ 
questionably the chef. He unconsciously di¬ 
rected the preparation of the meal, without 
saying a word. The old trapper had not lost 
his French characteristics of cleanliness, neat- 



138 


The Mysteey of Kuh-ja-mijck Cave 


ness and a certain sense of style, almost incon¬ 
gruous out in the woods. 

The griddle cakes were more than ordinary 
flapjacks. They were all the same size, well 
browned, and piled on three birch bark plates 
which Louie made for the occasion. He 
brought out a jug of maple syrup, clear as 
amber, evidently made by himself. Lake trout, 
which he had caught fresh that morning, were 
cooked in the deep hot grease, each fish having 
first been rolled in flour. Baked potatoes and 
coffee completed the menu. The odors were 
appetizing enough to have enchanted an epi¬ 
cure. The repast was simple but bountiful; 
the men ate with gusto, seated on benches 
placed at a height which enabled them to rest 
their elbows comfortably on the rough board 
table. 

During the meal, Q-ray began to understand 
more completely how baffling was this Louie 
Lament. He seemed to be a friendly sort of 
sphinx. He would describe with sly humor the 
catching of a fish or the shooting of a partridge, 
and immediately after would show an unusual 
pity and tenderness of heart, a naive repent¬ 
ance for his deed not often encountered in a 
trapper or a hunter. Gray did not have to be 
told that the Frenchman hated sham and that 
his natural instinct led him to recognize it just 
as a fox scents danger. As a friend or guide 
he was true, dependable, as staunch as an aged 



The Island of Peaceful Haven 


139 


oak which still lifted its leafy crown to the 
heavens after many a devastating storm. At 
the same time he stood between the mystery 
of the Kun-ja-mnck and the two who were re¬ 
solved to solve the mystery as an almost un- 
surmountable bulwark. For some good reason, 
as yet hidden to G-ray and Blake, Louie was 
not ready to make them his confidants; and 
they knew that his motives were not to be ques¬ 
tioned or doubted until he himself chose to 
enlighten them. 

When the meal was over, and everything 
cleaned up and set in order, Louie evinced a 
desire to linger at the cabin for a little while. 
So they sat and talked; but not once did the 
old trapper mention the other persons he was 
guiding, or protecting, as it seemed to Gray 
and Blake. It was as if he had made a truce 
before landing, providing for absolute silence 
on that score. Gray and Blake felt bound to 
respect it, as though each had given his solemn 
oath. All afternoon they talked. Gray telling 
of things in the outer world, interesting to 
Blake for the moment only, and understood, 
strangely enough, by Louie. 

That evening after supper. Gray and Blake 
sat before the back-log fire, discussing their 
first day on the island of Peaceful Haven. 
That was all the occupation they seemed to 
have, for a while, at least. They could take no 
active steps to discover more about Louie’s 



140 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-muck Cave 


companions, lest they defeat their own purpose 
by some precipitous act unwelcome to Louie, 
that extraordinary personality which they had 
not yet been able to fathom. So the two friends 
bided their time, mulling over their peculiar 
circumstances again and again, trying to get 
every possible angle on the possible fulfillment 
of their quest. 

Louie had returned to his camp during the 
latter part of the afternoon, not inviting them 
to accompany him. He had, however, left his 
basket, saying that its contents were for them 
and that he would provide more when needed. 

Q-ray and Blake were occupying a bench, 
built for two persons, before the fire. There 
were three of these rustic seats placed about 
the cabin, all made in the same imique way. 
The seats were fashioned of great logs which 
had been split lengthwise and hollowed out 
with the ends turned up, something like the 
form of a canoe. The hollows were deeply 
cushioned with pine needles, balsam twigs and 
dried moss. Backs of woven roots made the 
benches as comfortable as luxurious chairs. 

^^What d’yuh think ’bout him?” asked 
Blake, leaning back with a sigh of content¬ 
ment. He did not mention the name; it was 
unnecessary, for there was only one ‘‘him” 
connected with their thoughts at that time. 

Gray replied in one word, “Fascinating^” 
and fell again into a thoughtful contempla- 



The Island of Peaceful Haven 


141 


tion of the fire. After a moment he rose, 
pushed the logs closer together, and piled on 
two or three fresh ones. After the snapping 
of the fresh wood had subdued he looked about, 
gazing in several directions as far as the fire 
light would permit. 

Blake sat cross-legged, his hands clasped 
just below his right knee,, puffing slowly at his 
pipe. He used it only three times a day, once 
after each meal, and now he was drawing from 
it a supreme satisfaction. Gray sat down be¬ 
side him, settled into his corner of the bench, 
and rested his feet upon the rocks surrounding 
the open fireplace. Until the last year or so 
he too had smoked, but was forced to quit when 
he left the city. He watched Blake, thinking 
more about the woodsman than of the question 
asked some time before. He waited to see what 
Blake would do when his pipe was finished. 
Not a word was spoken; Blake was deep in 
thought, his eyes fixed on the flames of the fire. 
The pipe emptied, he held it in his right hand 
with his forefinger over the stem and the other 
three interlocked with his left hand. Gray 
knew that Blake would not smoke again that 
evening. 

For a long time there was silence. 

Jack,’’ said Gray, quietly. 

Blake remained motionless for an instant, 
then turned suddenly. 

^‘What d’yuh say?” he asked. 



142 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mijce: Cave 


^ ‘ I didn’t say anything, ’ ’ Gray laughed. ‘ ^ I 
just spoke your name. Sorry to interrupt your 
thought.’’ 

‘‘Guess I was inf it kind o’ deep,” came the 
reply, with a slow smile. “ ’Twa’n’t nothin’ 
but a wish ’bout Mat—” He checked himself 
abruptly. “I’ll tell yuh ’bout it sometime,” 
he concluded, and spread out his blankets. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE GROW AND THE LILT 

O star on the breast of the river, 

O marvel of gloom and grace, 

Did 70U fall right down from heaven. 

Out of the sweetest place? 

You are white as the thoughts of an angel; 

Your heart is steeped in the sun; 

Did you grow in the golden city. 

My pure and radiant one? 

Nay, nay, I fell not out of heaven; 

None gave me my saintly white; 

It slowly grew from the darkness, 

Down in the dreary night. 

From the ooze of the silent river 
I won my glory and grace; 

White souls fall not, O my poet. 

They rise to the sweetest place. 

T hree days passed without a visit from 
Louie, but the time was pleasantly spent 
in fishing, paddling about the lake, and 
indulging their favorite pastime during those 
days—^talking. They had much in common, 
although the past experiences of each man dif¬ 
fered wddely. Their mutual interest in the two 
mysterious companions of Louie, and in the 
old trapper himself had been sufficient to weld 
them together in more than a passing bond of 
friendship. 

Each one could teach the other in a variety 
143 


144 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mcjce: Cave 


of ways, for their world had been far apart and 
their interests had embraced two entirely dif¬ 
ferent spheres. Blake was a child of nature, 
closely associated with the things called com¬ 
monplace, but which, after all, are the won¬ 
drous things of heaven and earth. His thoughts 
were linked to the Master Mind, the unfathom¬ 
able Creator of the forest, the hills, and of 
every living thing. The marvellous animals 
and insects of the woods, so often deemed in¬ 
significant and worthless, were to Blake a 
source of study and wonderment. Uncle David 
had been his first teacher in the village school, 
then the mother of the Inn, both of them over- 
fiowing with love for the living things of the 
woods, streams and lakes. The birds which 
made the Adirondacks a song paradise in the 
springtime and early summer were the friends 
of these teachers, and every child was taught 
to know nature to the fullest. Then Mattie 
came into Blake’s life; together they had 
grown up, more as brother and sister than as 
mere neighbors. She had exerted over him a 
sweet infiuence, she who was so fearless, happy, 
a lover of the beautiful, and a friend to the 
friendless. 

There was also Cameron Livingstone, the 
artist, who unconsciously left the imprint of 
his fine personality upon Blake, as upon all 
with whom he came in contact. Many times 
the natives of Orendaga had looked out over 



The Crow and the Lh^y 


145 


the valley at the different light and shadows of 
morning or evening without seeing anything of 
the significance Livingstone caught with his 
brush and transferred to canvas. When the 
clouds hung low and the mists touched the ever¬ 
greens on the mountain sides or slept quietly 
on the bosom of the lake, the artist interpreted 
the scene in his painting; and only then did 
the people of Orendaga see and believe that 
heaven stooped to kiss their village and the 
valley. From Cameron Livingstone fiowed the 
grateful recognition of Grod^s wonderland. He 
revealed the Artist Divine, the Master Work¬ 
man of the ages. Blake, the pupil, looked up 
to this same Source for strength and was, in 
his way, a faithful student of the Infinite. 

Gray, the university graduate, had found in 
his talks with Blake that his own world was 
really the narrower and more superficial of 
the two. He had limited his conception of the 
physical universe to “What I know, I believe; 
what I cannot understand, I disbelieve.’’ But 
Blake saw a personal Creator as the only rea¬ 
sonable explanation of the physical universe, 
and that faith in Him placed man’s life on a 
sure footing. Gray was growing into Blake’s 
belief more and more as their friendship be¬ 
came stronger. Peaceful Haven was now con¬ 
tributing generously to Gray’s broader vision 
of life, and he was beginning to see these moun¬ 
tains and lakes as the garments of God. 



146 


The Mystery of Ktin-ja-muck Cave 


Gray and Blake had talked a great deal of 
Louie as they sat before their evening camp 
fires in the mellow dusk; they wondered how 
soon he would return and what was to be the 
solution of the mystery. More and more they 
felt powerless to cross his will, knowing that 
defeat lay in any action contrary to the old 
trapper’s wishes. 

Louie Lament is a natural born diplomat,” 
said Gray one evening. ‘^There’s more cour¬ 
tesy and kindness in his makeup than I ever 
expected to find.” 

^^He’s all o’ that, an’ more,” agreed Blake. 
Burin’ th’ las’ few years even th’ animals 
have become his friends. He’s as thoughtful 
t ’ them as he is t ’ us. He’s a wise ol ’ bird, too. ’ ’ 
^^You just bet he is,” was Gray’s rejoinder, 
thought, before I Imew him, that there was 
a way of cutting across this mystery—^but there 
isn’t. An accident may show us the whole 
thing, but otherwise we’ll have to wait. The 
man of the cave is two, apparently, and two 
are harder to hide than one—” 

^^He says he’s goin’ t’ take us t’ his cabin, 
though—” 

‘^Some day,” finished Gray with a chuckle. 
‘‘Well, that’ll help. We have all summer—” 
“We’ll need it,” observed Blake grimly. 
“Our presence here on this island,” contin¬ 
ued Gray,, “is pretty good proof of his ability 
to sidetrack us. He’s outgeneralled us in 



The Ceow and the Lily 


147 


everything. He must have foreseen onr plan 
to surprise him.’’ 

Gray reflected a moment before continuing. 
^^Do you know, Jack,” he said presently, ^H’m 
nearly as much interested in seeing how 
Louie’s going to carry this along as I am in 
the mystery of the cave. He’s the key to the 
whole thing, and he’s simply playing with us, 
flghting for time to hide those whom he’s pro¬ 
tecting.” 

‘‘An’ at th’ same time he’s a perfect friend 
to us, ’ ’ broke in the other. “ Th ’ trouble is that 
them other people’ve got first claim on him. 
’S far as friendship goes, we ain’t got any busi¬ 
ness buttin’ into his secrets—^but he’s th’ key 
t’ that mystery, jest’s yuh say.” 

The two men revealed strong features as they 
sat before the coals. Gray leaning against a 
stone with one leg outstretched on the earth, 
his other knee bent, with his hands clasped 
around it. A gray flannel shirt and soft cor¬ 
duroys were moulded to the athletic lines of his 
body. Blake, with his finely proportioned 
largeness, sat tailor fashion, his back against a 
tree and his pipe clasped between his fingers. 

“Guess we must be goin’ t’ learn somethin’ 
’bout this myst’ry,” said the woodsman after a 
long silence. “ ’F we wa’n’a, we wouldn’t’ve 
got this close.” 

‘ ‘ But the only reason he’s keeping us here is to 
put distance between us and those other people. ’ ’ 



148 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


‘^Waal, we wouldn’t ’ve got ’s far’s this ’f 
Louie was like he used t’ be.” Blake half 
closed his eyes in reminiscence. ‘‘Them folks 
o’ th’ Kun-ja-muck Cave must’ve changed him 
an awful lot. Why, all th’ game-wardens in th’ 
county was scared t’ death of him. Law wa’n’t 
nothin’ t’ him, an’ he jest broke ’em right an’ 
left ’thout nobody sayin’ a word. ’Fore this 
Kun-ja-muck business got started, three year 
ago, that trapper slaughtered everythin’ he 
saw. But he ain’t like that any more. Lucky 
fer us he ain’t, too,” added Blake. 

“This game is certainly fascinating,” de¬ 
clared Gray, enthusiastically. “I want to see 
how he’s going to manage it.” 

“He’s managin’ us th’ same way he does his 
pets,” said Blake with a short laugh. 

“I’d like to see the two pets he had in the 
canoe that day we saw him,” suggested Gray. 

Blake laughed again. “You an’ me both,” 
he said. 

Long streams of golden light were breaking 
through the clouds, suffusing the lake in a mel¬ 
low light, as Gray sat up in his bunk the next 
morning. To his surprise there was a fire 
burning in the stone fireplace in front of the 
cabin and the smoke curled its way through 
the pines, drifting to the east as a current of 
air swept down between the mountains. The 
coffee pot was over the fiames and the pleasing 
aroma of fresh meat came to Gray’s nostrils. 



The Crow and the Lh,y 


149 


Blake lay sound asleep; and Gray did not have 
to guess to know who was preparing break¬ 
fast. Without awakening his companion, he 
stepped to the door and looked out. 

The table was set for three, but not a soul 
was in evidence. He looked down the path 
leading to the lake; no one was visible there 
either. Turning back into the cabin to dress, 
he saw Louie’s face, wreathed in a friendly 
smile, appear in the window opposite him. On 
one of the trapper’s shoulders perched a crow 
and on the other a flying squirrel. 

^^Good morning, Louie!” called Gray in sur¬ 
prise, and at his words Blake awoke with a 
start. 

‘^What d’yuh know ’bout that!” he ex¬ 
claimed. ^^Whar d’yuh git them animals?” 
not so much in question as in admiration. 

Louie only replied, with a sage nod, ^^Bon 
jour, ev’r’body ees ready for breakfas’? We 
go to Brook Trout Lake w’en we have eat’. 
Louie show you ver’ good feesh in zat lake. I 
stay seex days, I t’ink.” 

^‘That’s flne,” said Blake. ‘^We hoped 
yuh’d come ’round ’fore long.” 

Louie’s pets were particularly interesting to 
Gray as they stayed close to the trapper, the 
crow waiting to be served from Louie’s own 
plate while the squirrel helped himself to nuts 
which he found in his master’s pocket. Each 



150 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muce: Cave 


knew Louie’s chatter and obeyed him quickly 
as he went about his work. 

Listen to the jabbering of that crow,” said 
Gray to Blake. ^^He sounds almost human— 
and says more in a minute than Louie would 
in an hour.” 

we only knew crow talk, we might gain 
some information about the mystery over 
there,” said Gray in a low voice. He looked in 
the direction of Louie’s camp. Blake nodded 
assent, for they were both quite sure that the 
two pets were familiar with the strangers 
whom Louie was guarding. 

The bird sat on Louie’s shoulder at the mo¬ 
ment, reaching around in front of the man’s 
face. In its mouth was a beautifully colored 
leaf which seemed not to interfere with the 
bird’s chattering. ^^Take it, take it, here is 
something for you, Louie, take it,” the crow 
seemed to insist. Louie went on about his 
work without paying attention to his friend’s 
appeals and loving devotion. As his master 
did not accept the gift, the crow poked the leaf 
inside his flannel collar and, after making sure 
it was safely deposited, flew here and there, 
inspecting Gray and Blake, warily at first, 
and then with perfect familiarity. The bird’s 
absence of fear and complete trustfulness were 
surprising. To their amusement he sat for 
some time on the back of one of the seats and 
attemptedto carry on a conversation with them. 



The Crow and the Lily 


151 


His head turned first on one side and then on 
the other, and he broke his chatter as if into 
sentences, stopping occasionally for his hearers 
to make comment or to laugh, as they both did. 

^ ‘ Remarkable, ’ ’ said Gray. ^ H Ve never seen 
anything to equal it.’’ 

Blake was greatly amused. ^‘We call them 
crows common,” he said, ‘‘but it ’pears t’ me 
like they had some brains. Some fellers ’round 
here have studied crows, an’ they say that th’ 
birds c’n talk t’ each other easy. They c’n 
tell when thar’s any danger, too, an’ they give 
th’ signal t’ their c’mpanions.” 

‘ ‘ I wish we knew what he’s trying to tell us, ’ ’ 
said Gray fervently. 

“ ’F we did,” replied the other, “it’d be a 
heap o’ satisfaction.” 

“Here comes Louie; ask him to interpret for 
us,” suggested Gray. 

Blake called to the trapper to come over. 
“Tell us what this here crow’s sayin’, will yuh, 
Louie?” he asked laughingly. 

Louie stood listening to the bird’s talk for 
several minutes, his head cocked on one side. 
When the crow’s chatter ceased momentarily, 
he said, “Mgger talk too mooch, all ze tarn. 
Good t’ing he no spik Engleesh—he tell all w’at 
he know.” 

Gray and Blake looked at each other and 
smiled. Louie, meanwhile, walked over and 
picked two daisies from the side of the path. 



152 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


leaving the stems rather long. He called the 
bird with a peculiar little chirp, placed the 
flowers in its beak, and said: ^^Va, va,’’ adding 
a few sentences in rapid French, and pointing 
in the direction of his cabin over on the point. 

The bird sat for a moment with head turned 
to one side, as if in thought, and then flew with 
a sudden whirr in the direction Louie had in¬ 
dicated. Up, up, over the lake, then above the 
highest trees it quickly soared, straightening 
out on its course to the cabin like a homing 
pigeon. The three men watched it disappear 
from sight. Gray and Blake stood speechless, 
for Nigger’s stunt was indeed surprising. 
Noticing the wonderment on their faces, Louie 
spoke. 

Nigger no stay long tarn, he come back to 
me ver’ soon.” 

The squirrel jumped to the top of Louie’s 
head as though he too were making ready to 
leave for the mysterious rendezvous. He sat 
up facing in the direction which Nigger had 
taken, pawing the air with his forefeet. 

‘‘Just look at those black eyes!” exclaimed 
Gray, calling Blake’s attention to the animal. 
‘ ‘ They almost speak to us. ’ ’ 

Louie reached up and lifted his pet from his 
head, letting it stand in the palm of his hand. 

“Voila, he ees a beauty,” said the French¬ 
man, caressingly. “He love me, an’ I love 
heem too. Bad sometam’ an’ want to stay up 



The Crow and the Lily 


153 


all ze night—sleep all ze day. But he love me, 
M’sieu. Cry w’en I go ’way, an’ w’en I come 
back he seeng an’ run all ’roun’.” 

‘‘Thar comes Nigger,” exclaimed Blake as 
he glanced out over the lake. “He’s cornin’ 
fast, too.” 

“See how he holds to a straight line,” Gray 
pointed out. “He’s still got the daisies in his 
bill.” 

“Eet ees not daisies,” said Louie as the bird 
came nearer. ‘ ‘ Somet’ing else. ’’ 

Straight as a die the crow flew to Louie and 
alighted on his shoulder. In his bill was a 
tiny water lily, fresh and beautiful. It had 
evidently just been pulled from the lake. 

Nigger pushed his head forward and dropped 
the flower into Louie’s outstretched hand. The 
trapper smiled as the bird chattered excitedly. 
Lifting the lily to his lips, he inhaled its frag¬ 
rance and then handed it to Gray with a courtly 
gesture. 

“A vous, M’sieu,” he said, an odd smile on 
his face. 



CHAPTER XII. 


THE KING’S CHAIR 

I know not what this man may be, 

Sinner or saint; but as for me, 

One thing I know, that I am he 
That once was blind, and now I see. 

—Hay. 

I N amazement Gray took the flower from 
Lome’s weather-beaten hand. His face 
showed consternation even as he thanked 
Louie for his graciousness. The old trapper 
enjoyed his new friend’s confusion, his eyes 
twinkling. 

^ ‘ Not me, M ’sieu, ’ ’ he said with an air of mys¬ 
tery. ^ ‘ Some tarn you mus ’ t ’ank mon angel, ze 
queen.” He studied Gray’s face intently. 

‘ ^ The queen, ’ ’ repeated Gray, puzzled^ Blake 
was listening in wonderment, but apparently 
did not understand the signiflcance of Louie’s 
words. ‘^And—^who is—^the queen?” went on 
Gray, haltingly. 

‘^Mordieu, ma frien’, she ees ze queen of ze 
woods. Ah, M’sieu, she ees like ze flower! You 
know her some tarn, mais not now.” With a 
snap of the Angers and a little chirp, dismissing 
the subject for the time, he invited the crow 
and squirrel to follow him to breakfast. 

154 


The King’s Chair 


155 


In a moment lie called the two mystified men 
to their morning meal. They had not spoken 
a word since his revelation of a woman in the 
mystery. They were astonished, and, as they 
moved toward the table, they glanced at each 
other, each trying to read the thoughts of the 
other. Mechanically they took their usual 
seats. Gray still held the lily in his hand; he 
looked vacantly about the table as if uncertain 
where to lay it. Old Louie smiled at their 
serious expressions and air of bewilderment. 

‘‘W’at, you ’ave not ze honger! No desire 
Louie’s trout, cafe, hot beescuit an’ flap-jack! 
Sapre! You no eat I give heem to Nigger an’ 
Freeskey!” He seemed quite offended, but a 
roguish twinkle in his eyes belied his words. 

‘‘Why, I’m always himgry, Louie,” replied 
Gray, abstractedly, while Blake, beginning to 
see the humor of the situation, laughed heartily 
at Gray’s blank face. The woodsman started 
to eat ’the food Louie had prepared. Gray 
merely sat in his seat and stared at Blake. 

“Waal,” said Blake, “why don’t yuh leggo 
that flower an ’ grab your share o ’ th ’eats ? Stick 
th’ lily down th’ maple syrup jug er heave it 
inf th’ water bucket—^yuh can’t eat it!” 

Gray succeeded in bringing a smile to his 
face, realizing what a foolish procedure it was 
to allow the breakfast to be consumed before 
his very eyes without sharing it himself. He 
laid the flownr beside his plate. Blake con- 



156 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


tinued to make fun of his abstraction, but Gray 
paid little attention. 

The Frenchman stood at the end of the table 
with a long fork in his right hand and a frying 
pan in the other, a half smile lingering on his 
face. His quick eye took in the situation. He 
seemed to understand the hidden secrets of 
their minds. Without further comment, how¬ 
ever, he sat down to eat with them. Nigger and 
Friskey taking a very noticeable part in both 
the meal and the conversation. 

When they had finished, the pack baskets 
were quickly made ready. Blake was accus¬ 
tomed to this kind of life and mode of travel. 
He therefore acted as Louie’s assistant in 
packing the necessary supplies. Gray, in the 
meantime, had again picked up the lily and 
stood with it clasped in his hand, awaiting fur¬ 
ther orders. When he saw that Louie packed 
no dishes or cooking utensils and stowed the 
blankets away in the cabin instead of fastening 
them up in rolls for carrying, he ventured to 
ask the reason. Blake explained that all of 
Louie’s lodges contained the things necessary 
for common use. 

Everything being ready, Louie closed the 
door of the cabin on the island of Peaceful 
Haven. Blake observed Gray’s close watch of 
Louie’s movements. As the younger man ap¬ 
peared to be interested in every act of prepara¬ 
tion, even to the extent of forgetting the lily, 



The King’s Chaie 


157 


Blake decided to satisfy Gray’s curiosity more 
fully. 

<<Tii’ doors o’ Louie’s cabins ain’t hardly 
ever locked,” vouchsafed "the guide. ‘‘Day or 
night, don’t make no diff’rence, ’s long’s 
Louie’s anywhar in th’ region his shacks is 
allers wide open. Th’ work’s all done up ’fore 
Louie leaves th’ place, an’ every dish ’s right 
whar it oughter he. Them cups that hang fr’m 
th’ swingin’ shelves over th’ table, an’ th’ nails 
fer th’ fryin’ pans ’re located in th’ same order 
in every cabin he uses. Same with th’ matches, 
lanterns, axes, an’ guns—they’re allers on th’ 
same peg or in th’ same notch on th’ log. That’s 
how Louie feels’s much’t home in one place’s 
t’ other.” 

After Blake’s explanation, Gray’s mind re¬ 
turned momentarily to the lily. He carefully 
placed it in the pocket of his lumberman’s 
shirt, and then apparently dismissed the sub¬ 
ject from his mind. The two friends helped 
Louie to clean up the grounds, and were shown 
where to place the bits of bread which were 
dropped or left over. These, with fish bones 
and other leavings from the meal, were not 
cast on the fire, but were placed in a selected 
spot down the path where the birds could easily 
find them. 

Bach man shouldered his own pack basket; 
Louie had increased his own pack with extra 
supplies, of food only, according to Blake. 



158 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-mtjce: Cave 


Gray had noticed that Louie’s last act before 
leaving the cabin was to examine the outside 
fireplace, making sure that there were no live 
embers. Throwing a pail of water on the black¬ 
ened wood, the old trapper glanced around and 
then started off with a light step and a quick 
movement. He led the way down the path to 
the lake, where two canoes were pulled up on 
the shore. Gray followed while Blake brought 
up the rear. 

The canoes had once been painted a light 
green, much like the foliage on the lake shore, 
but they were now dingy and weather-beaten. 
Louie took one, piling into it all the pack 
baskets; Gray and Blake followed the old 
French trapper in the second canoe. 

They were soon moving down the lake, Louie 
a short distance in the lead. Their paddles 
lifted from the water in unison, scarcely break¬ 
ing the silence. The water was like glass, re- 
fiecting the canoes, the rocks and trees along 
the shore, and the blue sky patched with white 
clouds above. Presently Gray and Blake swung 
their canoe around to the south that they might 
get a better view of the shadows along the 
shore. Gray’s eyes turned toward Louie’s 
cabin on the mainland,, wherein lay the mys¬ 
tery they hoped to solve. 

Louie’s ‘‘queen” made the mystery more 
exciting to Gray now, and his desire to pierce 
the veil of secrecy surrounding her was deep- 



The Ejng’s Chaik 


159 


ening momentarily. His hand strayed to the 
pocket where he had placed the lily; he made 
certain that it was still there. For several min¬ 
utes he sat, the paddle resting across his knees 
and his mind on the “queen of the woods.’’ 

As Q-ray’s unseeing eyes were fastened, it 
seemed to Blake, on infinity, it remained for 
the old woodsman to discover two persons on 
the shore. One was seated in the King’s Chair, 
a great throne of rock fashioned by nature and 
standing on the east shore of the lake where 
a narrow neck of land connected it to an island. 
This great rock, only a little way from Louie’s 
cabin, afforded a magnificent view of the lake 
and the surrounding mountains. Blake shaded 
his eyes and gazed intently. Louie’s mys¬ 
terious companions were not trying to conceal 
themselves, certainly, for they could not have 
chosen a more conspicuous place. 

“Look, Gray!” said Blake, in an excited 
undertone. ‘ ‘ Thar they be! ” 

Gray started and craned his neck in several 
directions before Blake had time to explain. 

“At th’ King’s Chair!” called Blake, point¬ 
ing. “Both of ’em ’re watchin’ us!” 

Gray rounded his hands as he put them to his 
eyes, looking through the openings as he would 
through a pair of field glasses. 

“Yes, there are two of them,” he ejaculated, 
“one in the chair and the other standing beside 
it—and we are paddling away from them, go- 



160 


The Mysteky of Kijh-ja-mijck Cave 


ing—after—trout.’’ He sighed regretfully. 
^^They’re the ones we’re after,, too. Look, 
Jack! One is standing up in the chair, waving 
something!” 

^‘Wavin’ t’ us er Louie?” wondered Blake. 

Turning to see where their companion was 
they found that he, also, had changed the direc¬ 
tion of his canoe until his bow pointed directly 
toward the King’s Chair. He sat in the stern, 
and with his paddle lifted as high as he could 
reach, he revolved it slowly in the sunlight, as 
though giving signals in some peculiar code. 
He was answered by the waving of a white flag. 
Louie did not conceal his interest in those at 
the King’s Chair. As Gray and Blake pad- 
died up to him he turned to them with a smile. 

jus’ say au revoir, ma frien’. Mgger go 
back some tarn, I t’ink.” 

Mgger and Priskey sat on the same pack 
basket, the crow chattering excitedly as though 
telling a long and interesting story. Priskey, 
with a nut between his paws, was singing to 
himself, punctuating the melody with his cease¬ 
less movements. 

As Louie again faced his canoe about and 
commenced paddling with his usual energy, 
Blake fell in behind him. Gray did not paddle 
at once, but cast a flnal long look at the King’s 
Chair. wonder which is the woman,” he 
said, under his breath. 

The extreme west end of the lake was soon 



The King’s Chair 


161 


reached. There they were forced to carry the 
canoes a little way off the trail, back under 
the shade and shelter of the trees, since their 
journey must be continued on foot. Louie 
glanced back toward the King’s Chair as he 
struck off along the trail, and Gray, following 
his glance, saw that the two persons had dis¬ 
appeared. 

It was a scant half mile from West Canada 
Lake to Brook Trout Lake, which was Louie’s 
show place for beauty and fishing. As Gray 
looked down from the trail to the waters of 
this lake, his whole being was filled with en¬ 
thusiasm, so entrancing was the spot. In the 
morning light the lake seemed as blue as the 
heavens above; its occasional ripples sparkled 
like diamonds in the sun. There was a constant 
succession of splashes as trout leaped above 
the surface, testifying to Louie’s statement 
that the lake was alive with fish. 

Two rowboats, old and scabby on the out¬ 
side but water-tight nevertheless, were brought 
to light by Louie. The three men rowed lazily 
down the lake, which was not more than a half 
mile long. As they drew near the northern 
point of the lake they saw two deer gazing 
quietly at them. The creatures suddenly dis¬ 
appeared into the dense woods at the water’s 
edge. The sight of the deer apparently re¬ 
minded Louie that it was lunch time, for he 
called a halt and prepared a hasty meal. 



162 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muck Cave 


During the afternoon, they reached Mud 
Bay, a sort of narrow lagoon at the far end of 
the lake. Here were many deer tracks, as 
well as two distinct trails, one leading south 
and the other rising higher on the slope near 
the shore, threading the woods to the north and 
east. Following the latter, Louie soon led 
Gray and Blake to a cabin on a cliff which 
jutted out over the water. 

The old trapper left his companions with the 
packs at the front door, disappeared behind 
the cabin, and quickly returned with the key. 

lock heem good,” he said by way of ex¬ 
planation. ^^Eet ees long tarn w’ile I am 
away.” 

"V^en the evening meal was over and the 
pets fed, Louie seated himself on a log at the 
edge of the cliff. The cloud shadows were 
chasing each other across the water as they 
often do in the early evening. Louie motioned 
the two men to sit beside him, one on either 
side. There they remained for some time in 
silence. 

Mgger had found a sheltered roosting place 
for the night; Friskey, perched on Louie’s 
knee, was begging for a nut. 

Here it was that Gray and Blake were to 
learn why Louie had brought them to Brook 
Trout Lake, that sheet of water which lay like 
a magic carpet at their feet, dyed with a hun¬ 
dred iridescent colors. 



The King’s Chair 


163 


The old French trapper was plainly retrac¬ 
ing trails of long ago; his eyes were dreamy 
with retrospection. Gray knew that Louie, if 
given time, would find words to make clear the 
meaning of his invitation to sit beside him. 
Blake’s less sensitive mind did not at once 
catch the significance of Louie’s far-off look. 
His black eyes gazed on; occasionally they 
came to rest upon the tall grass reeds that 
rimmed the bay below. Once or twice he had 
inspected the shore line of the lake, his ex¬ 
pression unchanging. 

Could a pioneer of olden times have watched 
more intently for the red man, thought Gray, 
as Louie’s face lost its appearance of idle con¬ 
templation and evinced a quiet watchfulness ? 
Blake became more interested in Louie’s 
peculiar silence, adopting Gray’s look of ex¬ 
pectancy. Louie stirred gently and lifted his 
head, as if about to open the subject which 
seemed to fill the depths of his own soul. 



CHAPTER XIII. 


THE OLD TRAPPER’S STORY 

A Persian fable says: One day 
A wanderer found a lump of clay 
So redolent of sweet perfume 
Its odors scented all the room, 

“What art thou?” was his quick demand. 

“Art thou some gem from Samarcand, 

Or spikenard in this rude disguise, 

Or other costly merchandise?” 

“Nay: I am but a lump of clay.” 

“Then whence this wondrous perfume—say!” 

“Friend, if the secret I disclose, 

I have been dwelling with the rose.” 

Sweet parable! And will not those 
Who love to dwell with Sharon’s rose. 

Distill sweet odors all around. 

Though low and mean themselves are found? 

Dear Lord, abide with us, that we 
May draw our perfume fresh from thee. 

G ray and Blake stirred slightly as Louie 
opened his mouth to speak; but instead 
of the revelations they had anticipated, 
he only pointed down the lake shore with a 
silent gesture. At the point where the Indian 
River has its source they saw the reason for 
Louie’s motion. Just by the edge of the wood 
a graceful buck was standing, his antlers lifted 
high and his nose pointed straight toward the 
cliff on which the men were seated. 

“Watch heem,” whispered Louie, almost in- 

164 


The Old Tkappek’s Stoky 


165 


audibly. scent us an’ stan’ on guard, be¬ 

fore be let ze doe an’ wan, maybe two, fawns 
come out from ze wood. He try to protec’ bees 
famille—” 

Tbe trapper’s companions said nothing, but 
sat tensely watching tbe deer and listening to 
Louie’s interpretation of its movements. Cau¬ 
tiously tbe buck approached tbe water’s edge 
and, after looking up and down the lake, gave 
bis bead a toss. Out from tbe woods came a 
doe and her two fawns. She too scented dan¬ 
ger and was unwilling to enter tbe water for 
a little while. She would not let tbe fawns go 
further than tbe edge of tbe forest; when they 
persisted in following her, she nosed them 
back. Tbe third time she drove them back with 
positive determination, and they obeyed. 

^^Voila! Voila!” exclaimed Louie faintly. 
She know! Sapre! she know we here, an’ she 
no trus’. Zat ees why I call you venez ici. I 
t’ink maybe we see deer an’ oder animals from 
ze cleef.” 

Gray barely repressed an exclamation of 
disappointment at tbe tenor of Louie’s words. 
Apparently tbe hoped for explanation was not 
in tbe old trapper’s mind that evening. They 
waited, however, with unabated interest; per¬ 
haps Louie would give them an opening for 
questions. 

^^Mon Dieu!” suddenly broke out Louie, bis 
mind still on tbe scene they bad just witnessed 



166 


The Mysteky of Khh-ja-muce: Caye 


at the water’s edge. ‘‘Wan tarn I wait wit’ 
ze gun, an’ I keel heem—” He lapsed into 
silence for a brief space. “I set ze trap, too, 
an’ get ze animal—^mais Louie trap no more— 
an’ he only shoot w’en he need to eat.” He 
finished in an undertone, as if to himself alone. 

Gray, alert for a chance to ask a leading 
question, ventured a suggestion. 

“Most hunters and trappers grow more 
cruel the longer they follow the trail. How is 
it that you do not, Louie?” 

The trapper answered hesitatingly. “He 
tol’ me—she teach me.” 

“Who d’yuh mean,, Louie?” interrupted 
Blake, leaning nearer that he might catch every 
word. 

The reply was hard for Louie to formulate, 
but he finally looked up, his stern old face light¬ 
ing with a cryptic smile, and said, “You know 
some day, ma frien’, not now.” 

He rose and poked the fire into a bright 
blaze. 

“I was goin’ tol’ you,” he said as he resumed 
his place, “w’y I set ze trap no more.” 

“ ’Bout two year ago las’ winter,” inter¬ 
rupted Blake again, “th’ men down t’ Oren- 
daga noticed that th’ only furs yuh brought 
down was fisher, marten, an’ mink. They was 
all shot, too—^none of ’em trapped like they 
used t’ be. We was wonderin’ how it come 
that yuh didn’t trap no more.” 



The Old Trappek’s Story 


167 


^ ^ Oui, oui, ’ ’ replied Louie. ^ ^ I ’ave only wan 
half so mooch skeens, mais they was ver’ good, 
beauteeful, an’ I get mooch money.” 

‘^You must have spent many weary hours 
watching for those animals,” suggested Gray. 
“Isn’t it easier to let the traps do the work 
while you’re sleeping"?” 

“Mordieu, ma Men’!” cried Louie. “Eet 
ees not so easy. I no can look in ze eyes of 
animal now. Long tarn ’go eet was no trouble, 
mais, tout a fait, eet ees now impossible. 01’ 
tarn, mon ’eart was lak stone, an’ I no look in 
ze eyes. I want not’ing but ze fur, an’ I get 
ver’ mooch money for heem. I ’ave nevaire 
realize w’at eet ees for animal to suffer—an’, 
enfin, I learn from zose people.” 

The old trapper paused, as if searching for 
words to convey what he wished to say. 

“I learn w’at love ees,” he continued after 
a time. “I learn zat eet ees cruel w’en I trap 
ze animal. In little w’ile I feel ze gran’ peety. 
Sometam w’en I get wan in ze trap I hear ze 
leetle wans cry, ’way off in ze wood, an’ ze wan 
in ze trap, she try to get loose, mais she ees 
not able. 

“I trap ze otter mooch in ol’ tarn, an’ ze las’ 
wan w’at I catch, eet ees change me. Sapre! 
M’sieu, ze mot’er ees in ze trap an’ two leetle 
wans lie on ze side of ze trap. I hear heem cry 
way ’cross ze valley, an’ w’en I come ze mot’er 
ees goin’ die, she ees si weak. She was in ze 



168 


The Mystery of Khn-ja-mijck Cave 


trap firs’ by ze two fron’ feet, an’ she ’ave chew 
wan foot loose. Mais ze strengt’ ees no more 
an, ze leetle wans ees starve. She lif ’ np ze 
head wit’ ze eyes close’. In leetle w’ile she 
open ze eyes—ah, mon Dien, she look si sof ’ an’ 
sweet—an’ she leeck ze face for ze wan leetle 
otter on wan side, an’ apres, she leeck ze face 
for ze secon’ leetle otter. I come close an’ 
strike ze mot’er on ze head vit’ ze gun. Sa- 
pristi! I feel mon ’eart go down, way down lak 
ze stone in ze water. Ze ol’ wan, she ’ave re¬ 
gard ze leetle wans wit’ si gran’ love!” 

Louie paused again. The remembrance was 
painful to him. 

^^An’ ze otter, she move no more—she ees 
dead, mort! Ah, M’sieu, I trap ze animal not 
any tarn no more. I see ze otter play an’ laugh 
many tarn w’en she slide down ze bank to ze 
water, jus’ lak chil’ren au village. Eet give 
me mooch plaisir, all w’at I want. I tak ze 
two leetle otter w’at I am tell you about, I tak 
heem chez moi, to mon cabane on Kun-ja-muck 
Reever. I keep heem so long w’ile he leeve.” 

Gray and Blake had listened to Louie’s story 
as though spellbound. 

‘‘And you have them for pets ?” asked Gray, 
almost in a tone of incredulity. “Will they 
know you when you go to your cabin on the 
Kun-ja-muck?” 

“Mais oui,” replied the Frenchman quickly. 
“An’ w’en I ’ave need ze feesh, I take heem 



The Old Tkapper’s Story 


169 


to Owl Pon’, maybe Dug Mountain Lake, an’ 
zat ees w’ere we catch ze feesh! W’en I catch 
wan feesh, ze otter catch free, an’ breeng heem 
to ze boat an’ t’row heem in basket w’en I hoi’ 
eet. You come see, wan day, maybe. I geeve 
you good dinner wit’ trout zat Weenkie an’ 
Bleenkie catch.” 

Gray’s and Blake’s eyes met at the trapper’s 
last words. Their attention had been brought 
back to the Kun-ja-muck and the mystery 
which clothed every mention of the place. They 
wondered if Louie, in his enthusiasm, had of¬ 
fered more than he meant. 

‘‘When d’yuh ’spect t’ go back?” enquired 
Blake. 

“Quel jour eet ees now?” returned Louie, 
evidently having lost track of the days and 
weeks. “I am voyageur in ze wood,” he con¬ 
tinued, “an’ some tarn I no remember ze mon’.” 

“I fergit ’em once ’n a while, too,” said 
Blake. “This here’s th’ second o’ August, 
ain’t it. Gray?” 

Gray reflected for a moment, and then agreed. 

“Bien! We mus’ return in ze meedle of 
September, maybe,” said Louie. 

“What d’yuh mean by ‘we,’ Louie?” Said 
Blake, quicMy. His smile disarmed whatever 
of impertinence the question might have sug¬ 
gested, but Louie drew himself up and spoke 
sharply. 

“W’at you mean, ‘we’?” 



170 


The Mysteky of Ktjh-ja-muok Cave 


^^Yuh said ‘we/ Louie/^ replied Blake, 
evenly. He looked to Gray for support. “Did- 
nT he, Grayl^’ 

“That’s right, Louie, you said ‘we,’ ” agreed 
Gray with some embarrassment. 

Louie shot a piercing look at both the men. 
Then his tenseness relaxed. 

“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed with a curious 
smile. “I mean me an’ Nigger an’ Freeskey.” 

“We thought you meant that we were going 
to stay with you until you went back to the 
Kun-ja-muck,” lamely explained Gray. 

“No, no, ma frien’. I am stay here seex day, 
mais I ’ave mooch to do. You an’ Jack come 
Kun-ja-muck in Septem’ an’ see Weenkie an’ 
Bleenkie an’ ev’ryt’ing. Scenty—^voila ma 
beauty!” 

“Scenty, what’s that?” asked Blake. 

Louie laughed lightly, but became serious 
in an instant. 

“Scenty, he ees mon gendarme. He guard 
mon cabane w’en I go on ze trail.” 

Gray looked at Blake as much as to ask if 
here were another mystery to solve. Louie 
seemed to enjoy their puzzled expressions. 

“Scenty, M’sieu, he ees w’at you call ze 
skunk!” Then, pointing down Brook Trout 
Lake toward the spot where they had seen the 
deer earlier in the evening, he suddenly cried, 
“Look! Labas!” 

The buck, his doe, and the two fawns were 



The Old Teappee’s Stoey 


171 


standing knee deep in the water, browsing on 
the tender grass and lily pads near the shore. 
Every few moments they would raise their 
heads to make certain of their safety, while 
the fawns played together close to their mother. 
It was indeed a picture of peace and content¬ 
ment as their graceful bodies bent now and 
then for a more distant bit of green. 

‘‘Ma queen ’ave tol’ me zat le bon Dieu ’ave 
made heem,’’ said Louie reverently, and went 
into the cabin. 

Louie divided the work of preparing break¬ 
fast the next morning. Gray brought water 
from the spring and set the table, while Louie 
and Blake built the fire and made ready the 
food. The men had filled their baskets with 
trout the day before; Louie cleaned the fish, 
rolled them in fiour, and dropped one after 
another into a pan of hot grease. Soon he 
lifted them out, well browned, with the meat 
showing white and flaky in spots. Potatoes 
were boiled with their jackets on, then were 
carefully drained and steamed until they 
popped open and the skin rolled back. They 
were a favorite dish with Louie. The fish and 
potatoes, with Louie’s hot stirred bread and 
rich, clear coffee, made up the menu. 

Gray ate with considerable gusto, not speak¬ 
ing until he had sampled everything on the 
table. 

‘‘This meal and my own appetite,” he ob- 



172 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-mtjck Cave 


served, with his mouth full, ^‘remind me of 
what Mattie prophesied—that my appetite 
then, compared to what it would be in the 
woods, was ^only a symptom.’ ” 

Louie’s face lighted up at the mention of 
Mattie’s name. 

wish they was all here,” said Blake, his 
mind on Orendaga and those in the little 
village. 

Louie did not venture to express himself 
openly, but simply added that ‘‘ze chil’ren lak 
ol’ Louie.” 

^‘Mattie and some of the older people would 
like to see you too, Louie,” said Gray. 

‘‘No, no,” insisted the trapper, “jus’ ze 
chil’ren.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to see the Livingstone 
boys?” asked Gray. 

“Good boys,” replied Louie. “Work hard 
all ze tarn. I lak heem ver’ mooch.” 

“Waal, Louie,” said Blake, “what d’yuh 
say t’ bringin’ ’em up th’ Kun-ja-muck with 
us ’long in September? Them boys ain’t been 
on th’ river since their father died.” 

Gray took up the appeal, for both men knew 
that the Livingstone boys could help them to 
win Louie’s complete confidence and trust, so 
necessary in solving the mystery of Kun-ja- 
muck Cave. 

“They’d give anything to see Nigger and 
Friskey, and your other pets,” urged Gray. 



The Old Teappek’s Stoey 


173 


Louie yielded. ‘‘You tell heem Louie want 
heem come on ze Kun-ja-muck nex’ mont’ w’en 
you come.’’ Then he stood looking fixedly at 
Gray and Blake, studying the effect of his next 
words. ‘ ‘ Breeng ze boys, ze mot ’er, an ’ Mattie, 
sometam.” His voice rose until it brought 
fullest emphasis on the last word. 

“Thank yuh, Louie,” was Blake’s sincere 
reply. 

He and Gray felt it to be another step in 
solving the mystery. 



CHAPTER XIV. 


THE BEAR CAVE ON KITTY COBBLE 

Have ye looked for sheep in the desert, 

For those who have missed their way? 

Have ye been in the wild waste places, 

Where the lost and wandering stray? 

Have ye trodden the lonely highway. 

The foul and darksome street? 

It may be ye’d see in the gloaming 
The print of my wounded feet. 

But none of the ransomed ever knew 
How deep were the waters crossed. 

Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through 
Ere he found his sheep that was lost. 

Out in the desert he heard its cry— 

Sick and helpless and ready to die. 

A fter an early breakfast the next morn¬ 
ing, the three men put the cabin in order 
and made ready to leave the cliff. Louie 
locked the door and again disappeared behind 
the building to deposit the key safely in its 
hiding place. 

Each man shouldered his pack and, with the 
Frenchman leading the way,, they followed the 
trail directly north from Brook Trout Lake. 
At first the way was steep as it led among hills 
with here and there an overhanging cliff. The 
summit of the trail was quickly reached, how¬ 
ever, and the more gradual descent on the other 
side gave Gray a chance to get his bearings 

174 


The Bear Cave on Kitty Cobble 


175 


and recover his breath. Cool and refreshing 
was the morning air; the sun had risen high 
enough to strike the hills across the valley to 
the north, kissing them with a Midas touch. 
The valley was rather dark, as it was yet in 
the shadow of the hills round about. 

They had come out on a bold point where the 
trail dropped directly over a rocky ledge be¬ 
fore entering the woods again. Gray was much 
too interested in the scene to speak; and after 
a few minutes of mute admiration Louie struck 
off into the valley below. It was a hike of but 
one mile from the camp on Brook Trout Lake 
to the lean-to which Louie had built several 
months before at the mouth of a slender stream. 
He had used it as a place of shelter during the 
autumn hunting season. Laying their pack 
baskets on the only shelf which the rough shack 
boasted. Gray and Blake followed Louie along 
the shore to a little point on the west side of the 
lake. After looking about for a few moments, 
the old trapper parted the bushes and weeds 
in search of something, which his companions 
rightly guessed to be a boat. 

^^Voila!” chirped Louie. ’ave ze bateau. 
We feesh on ze lake unteel noon.’’ 

It was an old brown Adirondack skiff, 
pointed at both ends, and it contained three 
seats and a pair of hand-made oars. Gray, 
looking through the bushes as Louie held them 
aside, saw that the boat rested on several logs 



176 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mhck Cave 


so that it was well off the ground, and was 
tipped against a tree at such an angle as to pro¬ 
tect it from storms. Its concealment had been 
made sure by the strips of bark and pieces of 
brush which lay on and about it. 

Louie, as usual, insisted on taking the oars. 
They were soon entering a bay at the north¬ 
west corner of the lake. 

^‘Thees w’ere we catch small mout’ black 
bass,’’ vouchsafed Louie. ‘^So, ma frien’, mak 
ready for mooch plaisir an’ some good meat.” 

He had come well prepared for this bit of 
fishing, as his bait can yielded up small frogs, 
crawfish, white grubs, angleworms, and a few 
grasshoppers. 

^‘Bet ees ver’ fonee feesh here,” said Louie, 
explaining his many different kinds of bait. 
^^Some tarn ze feesh lak wan bait, some tarn 
somet’ing else. I t’ink maybe bass tell ozer 
feesh w’at kin’ bait he ees eat zat day. He 
say ‘grubs to-day’ an’ bass don’ eat not’ing 
else. Some tarn eet ees crawfeesh. Bien, eet 
ees ver’ fonee!” 

“What kind of bait will it be to-day?” asked 
Gray in rather a doubtful tone. To his mind, 
grasshoppers, or whatever bait he might find 
successful, were just as good one day as the 
next. 

“Soon fin’ out,” replied Louie, a twinkle in 
his eyes. 

He baited his own hook with a crawfish. 



The Beak Cave on Kitty Cobble 


177 


handing Gray a grub and Blake a frog. A thrill 
of excitement coursed through the veins of the 
fishermen as they cast their lines over, all three 
striking, the water at the same instant. Gray 
began to get fidgety after a few minutes of 
waiting without so much as a nibble on any one 
of the lines. 

‘‘Mooch feesh here,’’ said Louie by way of 
encouragement. “Thees ees jus’ right place. 
I t’ink we on rock way down—^move leetle an’ 
hook fall bonder feet, maybe.” 

“This lake’s got th’ right name, all right,” 
grunted Blake. “Deep Lake sounds t’ me like 
th’ bes’ place fer bass.” 

“Pull heem up,” commanded Louie after 
another five minutes of waiting. “Tak ze 
worm,” he directed Gray, and handed Blake 
a grasshopper. He himself baited with a 
cricket which he extracted from the humid 
depths of the bait can. 

•Gray’s bait had hardly sunk to the rocky 
ledge when he had a strike. 

“Ah, eet ees worms!” exclaimed Louie with 
satisfaction. 

Gray’s pole bent nearly double as his captive 
made a dash for the lower rocks, pulling the 
line beneath the boat. Blake, fearing that 
Gray’s inexperience might cause the loss of 
the prize, offered a few words of advice. 

“Watch him, watch him!” exhorted the 
woodsman. “Give him slack—^that’s ’nough— 



178 


The Mysteky oe Ktjh-ja-muce: Cave 


hold Tiim up—thar he comes—goin’ t’ flip— 
give him line As Blake had prophesied, the 
flsh came to the surface and somersaulted with 
a vicious jerk of the head and flip of the tail. 
‘ ^ What’d I tell yuh ? ’ ’ called Blake. Q-ray was 
too busy and excited to answer, while Louie 
only sat and grinned as he watched the younger 
man endeavor to land the beauty. 

Louie had wasted no time in changing his 
bait from cricket to worms. He let down, and 
without the slightest sign of emotion began to 
play with a bass which struck instantaneously. 
At the tremendous tug upon his own line and 
the rapid manoeuvering of Cray’s catch, Louie 
saw the danger of crossed lines. He did his 
best to play his fish, keeping him some distance 
from Gray’s line lest they become tangled. As 
the lines veered together Gray called ‘‘Hold 
up, Louie!” At the words, Blake awoke to 
the fact that both his companions had strikes 
while he sat on the other side of the boat, hold¬ 
ing a line with a drowned grasshopper at the 
end of it. In chagrin he hauled up, reaching 
for the can of worms and relegating the grass¬ 
hopper to the pile of useless bait. 

“Land him er not,” said Blake to Gray, “I 
ain’t goin’t’ be th’ las’ one o’ this here crew t’ 
git a fish.” 

Before either Gray or Louie had succeeded in 
landing their fish, Blake’s rod dipped violently. 
‘ ‘ How’s that f er a strike! ” he exulted. ‘ ‘ Big- 



The Bear Cave on Kitty Cobble 


179 


gest one o’ th’ whole three! Good thing he’s 
over t’ this side th’ boat.” 

Louie smiled in the midst of his own battle. 
He knew that Blake’s bass was as apt to make 
a leap out of the water on the other side of the 
boat ; and it did just that. 

^^Git back here, yuh son-of-a-gim,” stam¬ 
mered Blake. He began to haul in rapidly, 
using both hands. Pulling as evenly as pos¬ 
sible, getting down on his knees and reaching 
well over the gunwale, he managed to get 
Louie’s flat willow basket under him, and in 
triumph lifted the bass into the boat. Louie 
pulled his in immediately afterward, and Gray, 
following Blake’s expedient with the basket, 
soon had his flsh safely landed. 

‘‘Jack got seex poun’ feesh,” said Louie 
after examining the three bass. “Gray got 
flve an’ ha’f, mine same. ’Nough for deener.” 
He chuckled. “T’ree worm, free feesh, free 
people hongry—^w’at more you wantf ’ 

After dinner the men again shouldered their 
packs and started out on the trail. 

“We go on ze bear cave,” announced Louie. 
“Eet ees w’ere I trap mon las’ bear. I tell you 
about heem w’en we come to Keety Cobble 
w’ere my cave ees.” 

They swung along the south fork of Wolf 
Creek, passing the southern end of the Twin 
Lakes. Beaching the southeast side of Kitty 
Cobble about the middle of the afternoon, they 



180 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mijok Cave 


easily arrived at the cave by five o’clock. Blake 
built a fire at the entrance and supper was over 
before sunset. Sitting before the fire when it 
had grown dark, Gray reminded Louie of his 
promise to tell about the last bear he had 
trapped. 

^‘Bet was in winter tarn,” began Louie, ‘Hwo, 
free year ’go, w’en I see track of bear long ze 
creek. Bet was mot’er bear, M’sieu, an’ two 
leetle cub. I chase heem for long tarn, an’ in 
leetle w’ile I see hees track ees come straight 
for thees cave. Ze bear she know w’at good 
place eet ees for hide. W’en I come here I 
know she ees inside ze cave. I wait wan hour, 
mos’ two hour, all for not’ing. T’en I know I 
mus’ put trap—beeg bear trap. I go way back 
Wes’ Canada Lake for get trap, an’ come here 
nex’ day. She ees still here, an’ two leetle cub 
too, for I see no track go ’way from cave. 

Ah, M’sieu, I set ze trap here by mout’ of 
cave. I fas’en chain on beeg pine tree la bas 
so bear can go out wit’ trap, mais not drag 
heem inside cave. T’en I go back mon cabane. 
Nex’ day eet ees snow, an’ rain, an’ freeze. 
I stay close by cabane for seex week for eet 
mak ze bad weat’er all tarn. 

Wan day Jeem Sturgis come by cabane. I 
tell heem ’bout trap on Keety Cobble. He say 
eet be good t’ing go up an’ see w’at ’appen. 
Ah, Mordieu, ma frien’—ze ol’ mot’er bear was 
in ze trap by ze two fron’ leg. She ’ave mak 



The Beak Cave on Kitty Cobble 


181 


ze groTin’ smoot’ all way from cave to pine tree, 
an’ ze rock by mont ’ of cave was pull way off by 
strengt’ of bin’ leg w’en she try get loose. W’en 
we fin’ ber sbe ees way down tbees bill far as 
chain can go, an’ sbe ees lay out ’side beeg 
fiat rock la bas. Sbe was dead, mort—sbe ’ave 
die from ze bonger—an’ by side of ze mot’er lie 
wan leetle cub, sbe ees mort too. 

^‘Me an’ Jeem, we look ’roun’ for ozer leetle 
cub an’t’ink we fin’ beem mort from ze bonger. 
Jeem bear leetle soun’ bimeby—^we look in pine 
tree an’ see pore leetle cub. He ees try bide. 
I dim’ tree an’ put rope ’roim’ beem an’ 
sweeng beem down. He ees mos’ dead, mais we 
geeve beem somet’ing eat an’ dreenk an’ make 
beem warm in pack basket. Sapristi! Ma 
frien’, be ees cry lak leetle cbil’ an’ put ze 
paw over eye so be ees not see bees mot’er mort. 
I tak cub mon cabane up ze Kun-ja-muck an’ 
keep beem. I ’ave trap bear no more. ’ ’ 

When Louie’s voice died away into silence 
neither G-ray nor Blake felt like making any 
comment. The fire bad grown dim and the 
temperature on top of Kitty Cobble, at its alti¬ 
tude of over thirty-two hundred feet, was be¬ 
coming uncomfortably cool even though the 
men were sheltered by the rocks of the cave. 

At a suggestion from Blake, Louie grunted, 
rose, and led the way into the cave, where be 
bad previously made balsam beds for three. 
The fioor and jagged walls of the cavern were 



182 


The Mysteky of Ktih-ja-mijck: Cave 


clean and dry. Louie’s candles cast a weirdly 
flickering light over the gaunt recess. The old 
trapper indicated with a gesture the beds 
which Gray and Blake were to occupy. 

‘‘Eet ees la has, behm’ ze gran’ rock, w’ere 
ze mot’er bear hide ze leetle cub,” said Louie, 
pointing to the boulder beside which the beds 
lay. You sleep here, an’ I stay me near door 
so be ready eef somebody come mak veesit.” 

It was no new experience for Blake to sleep 
in a cave but to Gray this cavern was a cham¬ 
ber such as he had never slept in before. Great 
ghostly shadows fllled the corners behind out¬ 
cropping ledges of rock; behind them yawned 
a hole of impenetrable l)lackness. Presently, 
with the blowing out of the candles. Gray found 
himself staring into a Stygian void, where the 
outline of nothing was visible. The experience 
was a strange one to him, rolled in a blanket, 
high and deep in a mountain side. It seemed 
to him that he was in some remote corner of 
the universe, wild and unknown; yet it was not 
so, for he lay a bare hundred miles from great 
cities whose thoroughfares were at that very 
moment teeming with life and bright with 
lights. 

He could not sleep. Instead, the absolute 
blackness of the cave became a screen upon 
which flashed, in rapid succession, scenes of 
long ago and incidents of his life since first 
coming to Orendaga. Presently there came be- 



The Beak Cave on Kitty Cobble 


183 


fore liis mind^s eye a vision of the Man of Mys¬ 
tery and the Queen of the Woods as he had 
glimpsed them at the King’s Chair. He saw 
them as clearly as if they were actually but a 
few feet from him. In his eagerness to know 
who they were and what they could be doing 
out in the fastness of the Great North Woods, 
Gray nearly cried aloud. It was not long be¬ 
fore his feverishly active mind quieted, how¬ 
ever, and left him asleep, warm in the peaceful 
oblivion of his blanket. 

Several hours passed before Gray was awak¬ 
ened by a call from Louie. He opened his eyes 
drowsily to see Blake doing the same thing, 
and Louie standing, fully dressed, in the light 
of a candle which he held. 

‘‘What yuhtalkin’ ’bout, Louie 1” demanded 
Blake sleepily. 

“Tam for get up,” replied Louie, emphasiz¬ 
ing his words with a wave of the lighted candle. 

“It’s blacker ’n midnight, Louie,” remon¬ 
strated Blake. ‘ ‘ How c ’n we find th ’ way down 
th’ mountain?” 

“We are only in ze cave, M’sieu. Bet ees 
day ou’side.” 

“Come on, yuh better git up,” called Blake 
to his companion, who gave every evidence of 
having dropped off to sleep again. Gray roused 
himself with difSculty and began to dress. He 
and Blake donned their clothes in silence and 
then packed the baskets for the return journey. 



184 


The Mystery oe Kijh-ja-muck: Cave 


Louie explained that they would breakfast on 
the island of Peaceful Haven, not more than 
a two hours’ hike. 

Louie’s companions had both lifted their 
packs, when Blake said, ‘^Git th’ candles. 
Gray.” The latter did as bidden, but before 
removing the candles from their ledge of rock 
he stood for a moment looking about the cave, 
his eyes resting longest on that part where he 
had slept. 

^‘Why don’t yuh put out th’ candles?” de¬ 
manded Blake, a trifle impatiently. 

Gray immediately seized the candles and 
advanced toward the dim light marking the 
cave’s entrance without saying a word. His 
mind had been dwelling on Louie’s story of 
the evening before; he was thinking of the 
change that had taken place in the old trapper. 
When, questioned Gray, would the persons who 
had taught Louie the law of love, reveal them¬ 
selves ? 

The trapper’s voice echoed in the entrance 
to the cavern. They listened to his words, 
‘‘Come fas’, ma frien’, eef you want see ze 
smile of ze mornin’.” 

The entrance of the cave looked directly to 
the east; the men came from its narrow limits 
into an inflnite expanse of beauty. Louie had 
stepped aside so that the marvellous coloring 
of the sky, made brilliant by the rising sun, 
might be the first thing to greet them. He 



The Beae Cave on Kitty Cobble 


185 


stood quietly watching; he saw that Gray was 
deeply affected. Without taking his eyes from 
the sky, Gray took a few steps backward until 
he reached Louie’s side. Placing his own arm 
within that of the old Frenchman, he spoke. 

‘‘Louie, I want to tell you here that this is 
the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and 
that this visit to Kitty Cobble has meant more 
to me than anything I have ever experienced.” 
Words were inadequate in the presence of an 
emotion as strong as Gray’s. “I have seen 
strong men and women in the hills,” went on 
Gray, “who can endure physical hardships, but 
who have gone beyond that and grasped those 
things which never perish. I owe much to you, 
Louie. You have given me a broader outlook 
on life; you have taught me to have sympathy 
for those weaker than myself and to protect 
rather than destroy.” 

“Ah, M’sieu”—and Louie’s voice was soft 
—‘ ‘ eet ees heem, an ’ her, not me. She teach me 
t’ose t’ings.” 

“But who is ‘she’1” asked Blake impul¬ 
sively. The spell which had held Louie and 
Gray while they talked was broken. The 
Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 

“I tell you some tarn, not now,” was his 
answer. Then, with a care-free smile and a 
boyish gesture he led the way to a spot a short 
distance beyond the cave, protected from the 
wind by an overhanging rock. The fire which 



186 


The Mystery of KiTH-JA-MrcK Cave 


he had built soon after getting up had burned 
low, but coffee was hot and waiting. Their 
regular breakfast would not be eaten until they 
reached the island of Peaceful Haven. 

The two miles and a half from Kitty Cobble 
to Louie’s cabin on the island were quickly 
covered; to them it was like going home. 
Louie’s gait was swifter than usual and a new 
light seemed to shine from his weather-stained 
and wrinkled face. 

It took only a few minutes to row from the 
mainland to the island. Before entering the 
little cabin, Louie stood still, looking intently 
towards his other cabin—^his home—on the 
mainland. He did not try to conceal his anxious 
scrutiny of the place. Blake observed that 
Gray was almost as much interested in the dis¬ 
tant cabin as was the old trapper. There was 
no sign of life there; the front door was closed, 
as were also the windows. Louie made no ex¬ 
planation, and his companions dared not tres¬ 
pass on his silence. 

While Louie built a fire and prepared break¬ 
fast, Gray tried to busy himself with the table 
and tidying up the camp. He could not fully 
account for that drawing infiuence which 
caused him to look every few minutes across 
the bay toward the cabin on the other shore. 
He tried to forget them and to keep busy with 
the work, but again and again he found him¬ 
self looking up as though expecting a signal 



The Beak Cave on Kitty Cobble 


187 


or a sight of those whom Louie was protecting. 

The old Frenchman chatted to Nigger and 
Friskey in a patois which they seemed to 
understand perfectly; but Nigger was ex¬ 
tremely uneasy. The crow’s chatter was con¬ 
tinuous and his wings were in constant motion 
as he sat on Louie’s head or shoulders. At 
last Louie, weary of the bird’s coaxing, picked 
a purple fringed orchis from a nearby cluster 
and placed it in Nigger’s bill. With several 
upward movements of his hands he pointed to 
the distant cabin and spoke a few sentences in 
a queer sounding patois. Nigger flapped his 
wings; up and away he flew, straight as an 
arrow, and was soon out of sight. Louie smiled 
at Gray, then at Blake, and invited the men 
to breakfast. 

They sat in the same places at the table which 
they had used before. Gray faced the King’s 
Chair—and he had scarcely taken his seat when 
he saw two persons appear at the great throne 
of rock. Gray ate mechanically, his eyes on 
the King’s Chair and his mind wondering what 
manner of people were those at whom he gazed. 
In a few minutes Nigger returned; a small 
piece of white paper was fastened to the crow’s 
leg. Louie unfolded it, but without reading 
it handed the message to Blake. 

^ Won read heem, ’ ’ requested the Frenchman. 

Blake took it with trembling hand, and read 
aloud: ^‘Welcome back to Peaceful Haven!” 



CHAPTER XV. 


AN UNWILLING SURKENDER 

If thou wilt be a hero and wilt strive 
To help thy fellows and exalt thyself, 

Thy feet, at last, shall stand on jasper floors; 
Thy heart, at last, will seem a thousand hearts— 
Each single heart with myriad raptures filled— 
While thou shalt sit with princes and with kings, 
Eich in the jewel of a ransomed soul. 


L ouie did not ask Gray and Blake how 
^ long they would like to remain on the 
island of Peaceful Haven; their interest 
in his mysterious friends was penetrating 
deeper than he could as yet permit. Hence the 
old trapper proposed that they move on that 
very day. 

^‘We go on ze trail to-day, M^sieu, ze trail 
by Whtney Lake. No stay thees place no more 
tarn yet. I want you see ze beaver w’en he ees 
slap ze tail on water. An’ we go ’roun’ ze lake 
an’ mout’ of creek—eet ees mooch plaisir, ma 
frien’. We start in wan hour an’ come W’itney 
Lake for eat supper to-night.” 

With the crow on one shoulder and Priskey 
in the crook of his arm, the old Frenchman 
looked keenly at his companions. He was, to 

188 


An Unwilling Sijeeendek 


189 


all appearances, as unconcerned as though he 
had but suggested a morning’s fishing on the 
lake before them. With one hand he stroked 
his squirred; and with an occasional queer 
movement of his head he rubbed his cheek 
against the crow’s black and shiny wing. 
Friskey presently climbed to the other shoulder 
and frisked his tail in Louie’s ear as if to draw 
his master away from the enticement of 
Nigger. 

Gray looked at Blake intently, a mute ques¬ 
tion in his eyes. It was plain that they had 
been expecting a proposal from Louie of an 
entirely different sort; they had, quite nat¬ 
urally, expected to stay on Peaceful Haven 
much longer. 

Louie, the wise old woodsman, read their 
thoughts in an instant. He had not questioned 
their unfeigned interest in the West Canada 
Lake region, nor their curiosity regarding him¬ 
self and the secret which he had guarded so 
carefully for more than three years. He knew 
it was but natural for them to attempt to solve 
the mystery; and had not others asked ques¬ 
tions, far more pointed than theirs 1 Gray and 
Blake knew more about the mystery than had 
anyone else in the past, but they quizzed him 
less. 

‘^Well, Louie,” said Gray finally, with an 
attempted smile of perfect sincerity, “we hate 
to leave Peaceful Haven—it is so beautiful—” 



190 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mtjce: Cave 


‘‘Ah, M’sieu, mais jus’ wait nnteel you ’ave 
come to Whtney Lake! We go ’roun’ ze eas^ 
en’ of lake—I want for you see mon cabane an’ 
ze garden.” 

Louie’s eyes held a bright twinkle as he fin¬ 
ished, yet his words were not tinged with en¬ 
treaty ; they were, rather, an emphatic request, 
pleasingly put. He immediately started to 
pack the baskets, adding fresh supplies as he 
thought they would be needed and paying little 
attention to Gray and Blake. 

They saw at once that they could do naught 
but give in. The mention of Louie’s cabin 
and gardens on the mainland—^the very cabin 
which they could see from where they were 
then standing — kindled a new enthusiasm 
within them. Perchance they would be granted 
a nearer glimpse of the cabin’s two inhabi¬ 
tants; perhaps they might even see Louie’s 
“queen.” Gray began to assist Louie in get¬ 
ting ready the packs; and Blake put the cabin 
to rights. 

The path by which they left Peaceful Haven 
wound between the trees and rocks, at times 
skirting the edge of the water, and again lead¬ 
ing through a patch of mountain ash. In a 
moment they came out in the open space where 
stood Sunset Rock and the graves of the master 
of the island and his faithful servant. Louie 
never failed to do honor to the memory of these 
men when he was on Peaceful Haven; so the 



An Unwilling Sukkendek 


191 


three voyageurs halted, gazing in silence upon 
the two graves. 

The wind was cool and fragrant; a bird sang 
with the blitheness of spring. It was no time 
for words, for platitudes. Q-ray read aloud, 
unconscious of those beside him, the single line 
stamped in bronze upon Sunset Rock: ‘‘They 
found that Peaceful Haven was the gate to 
Heaven.’’ 

They silently faced about and took their 
seats in the old skiff which was ready for them 
at the shore. Louie pushed off, grasped the 
oars, and after a few minutes of steady pulling 
the boat grated on the mainland beach. The 
trail commenced at the spot where they landed; 
and they had not advanced far around the shore 
line, passing Big Bay, when Louie’s cabin on 
the east shore, near the King’s Chair, came 
into sight. Louie halted at a fork in the path, 
one trail leading to East Canada Lake and 
the other in to his cabin and the garden. 

When Gray and Blake saw that it was not 
Louie’s intention to take them in to his camp 
they exhibited some chagrin; but they were 
careful not to let the Frenchman see their dis¬ 
appointment. So near, and yet so infinitely 
far from knowing what they wanted to know 
more than aught else! The thought of disre¬ 
garding Louie’s wishes and making their way 
to the camp never entered their minds. Doubt¬ 
less that cabin which they could see so plainly 



192 


The Mysteey of Kijn-ja-mtjck Cave 


sheltered the two persons who had tantalized 
them by their appearances at the King’s Chair. 
No one was in sight at the cabin, although one 
window was open. Cray’s eyes roved over the 
gardens—^he saw a plot neatly fenced with 
poles, making a high thicket palisade through 
which was a gate and a winding path that led 
directly to the cabin’s door. 

Suddenly Louie gave a long low whistle fol¬ 
lowed by several peculiar notes. The trap¬ 
per’s companions stood breathless, waiting for 
the answer; in a moment it came, clear and 
flute-like, proving that those whom Louie was 
protecting were near. Nigger held his head 
on one side, his wings half extended; Priskey 
sat poised on his master’s shoulder, ready to 
leap. Again Louie sent forth his strange call, 
and again it was answered as before. With a 
muttered exclamation of satisfaction, Louie 
spoke to his pets, using the same weird patois, 
half French and half something else, intel¬ 
ligible only to his faithful animal followers. 

With an excited fluttering of wings. Nigger 
sped toward the cabin, Priskey making for the 
nearest tree from which he started on a limb to 
limb dash that soon lost him to sight. Louie 
smiled happily. Not a person could be seen at 
the cabin or in the garden, nor could a sound 
be heard beyond the usual songs of birds, the 
hum of Louie’s bees in the garden, and th^ 
gentle rustling of leaves. 



An Unwilling Sijekendee 


193 


Nigger an’ Freeskey stay on cabane unteel 
I am come back,” said Lonie, addressing the 
younger men for the first time since they bad 
baited at tbe fork in tbe trail. ‘‘Come, ma 
frien’, we mus’ go fin’ boat soon.” 

They sbouldered tbeir packs and marched 
along tbe trail. Gray felt defeated, in a sense; 
yet be knew be should not be disheartened over 
what bad occurred. They bad made consider¬ 
able progress toward a solution of tbe mystery 
—in fact, bad accomplished more than they 
dared expect when they began tbe quest. To 
win tbe friendship of Louie was a victory in 
itself, and to locate tbe mysterious strangers 
of tbe Kmi-ja-muck Cave, as they bad done, 
was a discovery essential to tbe fulfilment of 
tbeir purpose. And yet, to be so near tbe secret 
and to leave it unfatbomed was a bitter dis¬ 
appointment. 

“Every step takes us farther from what we 
want to know,” whispered Gray to Blake as 
they followed Louie’s stocky figure along tbe 
trail. 

“Don’t fergit tb’ longest way ’round’s tb’ 
shortest way home,” returned Blake, hope¬ 
fully. “Yub know we’re beaded fer tb’ Kun- 
ja-muck.” 

As usual when on tbe trail, Louie spoke 
rarely. Since Gray and Blake bad learned bis 
every gesture, tbe spoken word was not neces¬ 
sary ; for bis unconscious movements indicated 



194 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muce: Cave 


to them what he wanted or intended to do. 
Gray wondered if Louie were laughing to him¬ 
self over the little experience near the cabin. 

Just before they emerged from the wood, 
skirting the shore of West Canada Lake where 
the trail to East Canada and thence to Whitney 
forsakes the shore, Louie suddenly stopped, 
held up his hand, and listened. Taking a few 
cautious steps forward he looked first up the 
narrow stream fiowing from West into East 
Canada Lake, a stream where the grass grows 
high and thick; then he scanned the lake shore. 

^^Sapre! Eet ees five beauty!’^ he exclaimed 
softly, pointing toward the mouth of the 
stream. know thees deer, you see. Eet ees 
bes’ for you stay on ze trail an’ watch. W’en 
I w’is’le, you come.” 

Before showing himself to the deer, Louie 
whistled the same peculiar call he had used at 
the cabin. The deer jerked up their heads, all 
five at once, eager to see who was approaching. 
Louie took several slow steps, advancing into 
the open. Gray and Blake were astoimded 
to see the animals coming toward him instead 
of bounding away in fright at the sight of a 
human being. 

Pulled up in the reeds at the margin of the 
stream was the boat which Louie intended to 
use in going over to Whitney Lake. As he ap¬ 
proached it, still moving with his slow, even 
tread, the deer drew nearer; by the time he 



An Unwilling Sukkender 


195 


was close enough to place his hand on the gun¬ 
wale of the small craft they were at his side, 
vying with one another for the place nearest 
to him. He pushed the boat clear of the tall 
grass and placed the oars in their locks, the 
deer remaining close to him, and apparently 
not in the least disturbed by his movements. 
When everything was ready for the men’s de¬ 
parture, Louie opened a small paper sack, the 
sight of which caused a great capering among 
the animals. 

‘‘They act like a lot of children coming to 
meet their father,” said Gray,, a little awed. 

“That’s sugar he’s givin’ ’em,” vouchsafed 
Blake. “Louie must’ve ben watchin’ fer ’em 
all th’ time.” 

“I’ll bet they’re the ‘queen’s’ pets,” said 
Gray in a tone of sudden conviction. “Didn’t 
you notice he called them with the same whistle 
he used at the cabin?” 

“Yep, that must be it,” agreed Blake. 
“Look, they’re all tryin’ t’ git inf th’ boat 
with him!” 

He and Gray were fascinated by the antics of 
the deer, and felt a growing concern for Louie’s 
safety as they watched the struggle wax hotter. 

“Look at that there buck drive that young 
’un back with his horns!” exclaimed Blake. 
“He sure means business!” 

“If Louie isn’t careful theyII push him 
into the river,” said Gray. 



196 


The Mysteey of Ktjn-ja-muck Cave 


‘‘Louie’s callin’ us,” broke in Blake. “He 
says t’ come on. Wonder what them deer’ll 
do?” 

At sight of the strangers up went their heads 
and tails in a flash. They remained motionless 
as Gray and Blake approached, but suddenly 
the old buck whirled and dashed across the 
creek. The younger ones kicked up their hind 
legs as in play and the whole band quickly 
disappeared through the wood. 

Louie greeted his friends with a laugh. “I 
’ave t’ink thees deer ees somew’ere ’roun’,” 
he chuckled. “Mon gouverneur an’ ze queen 
of ze wood ’ave get heem las’ year. Ma queen, 
she keep heem in garden, an’ put leetle bell 
on each wan—leetle bell reeng an’ keep heem 
from honter. 01’ Abe Smeet’, you know heem. 
Jack—^he ees shoot ze bell off neck from wan 
doe! He say he keel heem all, ever’ wan, thees 
year. Sapre! I say he ees not keel thees deer! 
He mus’ come up Kun-ja-muck eef he want 
fln’ heem—ze queen keep deer wit’ her up on 
zat reever.” 

“How c’n yuh git ’em over thar?” queried 
Blake in surprise. 

“Ma queen go, an’ deer follow,” replied 
Louie simply. “Deer love her, an’ eet ees 
easy.” 

Under the persuasion of Louie’s powerful 
strokes their little boat soon passed into East 
Canada Lake, called Mud Lake by the natives, 



An Unwilling Sukkendek 


197 


and thence into Whitney Creek. Pulling up 
over the first beaver dam, Louie pointed out 
the strength of its construction, and, in his 
abrupt way, explained the marvellously wise 
methods in engineering and building displayed 
by the industrious animals. 

‘‘To-night,’’ he said, “you see heem work 
toot’ an’ tail!” 

Blake laughed in agreement. “I’ve studied 
’em fer four winters,” said the lumberman, 
“when we was up t’ th’ Jessup River, ’long 
Indian Lake. Heaps of ’em over thar. I most 
d’cided they was’s clever’s human bein’s, an’ 
nobody could git me t’ trap er shoot one now.” 

“Jack ees right,” and Louie turned to Gray, 
to whom beavers and their ways were a distinct 
novelty. “I ’ave nevaire see wan beaver w’at 
ees not know more fan Abe Smeet’I Jack, 
was you on reever Jessup w’en lumberjack run 
ol’ Abe out of wood an’ mos’ hang heem by 
hees neckf ’ There was a smouldering light 
in Louie’s eyes as he mentioned Abe Smith. 

“Yep, I was with th’ gang that winter,” re¬ 
plied Blake, “an’ I come near helpin’ th’ boys 
beat him up so’s he’d never kill another beaver. 
I saw him hit th’ poor helpless thing over th’ 
head with a club.” 

“I trap too that winter,” continued Louie. 
“T’ree year ’go I tell Abe no touch beaver, 
mais he jus’ look like he want keel me maybe. 
I fink eet ees Isaiah Pikes who catch heem hit 



198 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-mhck Gave 


beaver wit’ beeg club. Isaiah tell me beaver 
’ave two fron’ paws, same as ban’s, caught in 
trap. Beaver see ol’ Abe w’en he come, an’ 
w’is’le for help. T’en beaver begin cry, jus’ 
lak leetle baby, M’sieu. W’en Abe lif’ club, 
beaver stan’ on bin’ feet an’ lif’ up paws an’ 
put trap on head so Abe ees not able beet heem. 
Ah, beaver nevaire fight, nevaire get mad—^he 
ees jus’ try protec’ heemsel’.” 

^ Wep, I r’member that,” said Blake. ^^We 
reached th’ place jest too late. Th’ beaver’s 
head was smashed in. Two of us took it out’n 
th’ trap an’ th’ others went after Abe. Fr’m 
what I heard, I guess them fellers knocked Abe 
most ’s hard’s he pounded th’ beaver. Then 
they told him t’ git out an’ never come back 
t’ these here woods agin.” 

That night in the dusk they watched the 
beavers at work in their colony. The trio had 
been increased to four by the coming of Jim 
Sturgis, an old woodsman who was camping on 
the south shore of the lake. He had seen their 
fire as they prepared supper and paddled over 
just as twilight fell. Jim was a heavy-set figure 
of a man, with a piercing eye and a pleasant 
face. He was glad to see Louie and Blake, 
both of whom were old and fast friends of his. 
He greeted Gray with a woodsman’s cordiality 
and put the younger man immediately at his 
ease. At Louie’s invitation Jim agreed to cast 
his lot with the other three men for a few days. 




An Unwilling Sijreendee 


199 


^‘Tou an’ Mr. Gray take my canoe,” said 
Jim as the party started for the beaver dam. 
‘‘Louie an’ I’ll walk ’long th’ shore. ’Tain’t 
more’n a five minute walk.” 

Gray and Blake paddled as silently as pos¬ 
sible, neither one talking unnecessarily. The 
canoe had just entered the narrow channel of 
the stream leading up to the dam when Gray 
saw his first beaver. Before he could call 
Blake’s attention, the animal raised its broad 
fiat tail and smote the water a terrific blow— 
and from that moment on there was an in¬ 
cessant thrashing of the water by the tails of 
many beavers. 

Louie and Jim were keeping pace with the 
canoe on the shore. When they reached the 
dam Gray and Blake lifted the craft to its top, 
and were quickly joined by the other two men. 

“How many beaver do you think there are 
here?” queried Gray with deep interest ap¬ 
parent in his manner. 

Jim Sturgis took upon himself the office of 
informant. He had familiarized himself with 
the lives and habits of the beaver as well or 
better than any other man in the region, save 
Louie, and could express himself in much 
clearer fashion than the Frenchman. 

“Don’t have t’ guess it,” was his reply. “I 
know fer sure there’s jest fourteen in this here 
colony. I’ve named th’ five oldest of ’em an’ 
I’ve watched over all of em’ fer several years. 



200 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-mhck Cave 


Them two beaver houses over thar is the only 
ones in this colony. Each of ’em measures 
’bout twenty-five feet ’round, an’ stands ’most 
four foot ’n a half ’bove high watermark.” 

‘‘They sure do a heap o’ work, an’ do it right 
an’ without no disagreement,” interrupted 
Blake. “Jest look at this here dam. It’s made 
Whitney Lake a prettier place’n it would’ve 
been ’thout th’ beavers. Dams hold water 
durin’ th’ dry season, yuh know, an’ keep th’ 
trees an’ plants ’live.” 

Gray listened carefuUy to every word that 
fell from the lips of both Jim Sturgis and 
Blake. He had never realized that there was 
such harmony of purpose and amazing co-op¬ 
eration among the beavers and that they could 
build a dam with almost human foresight and 
intelligence. 

“I wonder why we call them the ‘lower ani¬ 
mals’?” said Gray, slowly. 

“Ah, M’sieu,” rejoined Louie, “eet ees man 
lak me used for be, an’ lak ol’ Abe Smeet’ w’at 
needs ze name more fan ze beaver.” 



OHAPTEE XVI. 

GOD DOES ANSWER PRAYER 


I stood on the shore beside the sea; 

The wind from the west blew fresh and free; 

While past the rocks at the harbor’s mouth 
The ships went north and the ships went south, 

And some sailed out on an unknown quest, 

And some sailed into the harbor’s rest; 

Yet ever the wind blew out of the west. 

O, set your sail to the heavenly gale. 

And then, no matter what winds prevail. 

No reef shall wreck you, no calm delay; 

No mist shall hinder, no storm shall stay; 

Though far you wander and long you roam 
Through salt sea spray and o’er white foam. 

No wind that can blow but shall speed thee home. 

—Annie Johnson Flint. 


J IM STUEGIS returned with the three 
voyageurs, as Louie was pleased to call 
himself and his two companions, to their 
camp on the lake shore. They had decided to 
sit around the fire for a little while before 
wrapping up in their blankets, that Louie and 
Jim might have an opportunity to talk over 
their many experiences together. 

Gray and Blake gathered the wood while 
Louie and Jim made preparations for an early 
breakfast, both men working silently on their 
individual tasks. Gray had lighted the fire, 

201 


202 


The Mystery of Kxjh-ja-muck: Cave 


and now stepped back into the shadows, calling 
Blake to his side, where they could watch Louie 
and Jim moving about in the fitful light of the 
fire. 

^‘It’s another picture,’’ said Gray. ‘‘I wish 
I could sketch it and paint these colors, espe¬ 
cially the fire glow with its refiections.” 

^^It’s all right fer a pitcher,” answered 
Blake, ‘‘but that thar open camp that th’ state 
built ain’t nothin’ like Jim’s big cabin that 
used t’ stand down on th’ shore. D’yuh notice 
Louie an’ Jim didn’t use th’ fireplace made 
by th’ officials o’ this here Adirondack Park^? 
Things ain’t practical, that’s what’s th’ matter 
—they don’t fit th’ real need o’ th’ woods!” 

Blake’s voice grew emphatic as he finished. 
It was clear that the subject of the camp sites 
in the Adirondack Park was a sore one with 
him. Whenever he came upon one of the open log 
camps which had been built by the state he 
plainly exhibited his disgust; and to-night, ap¬ 
parently, the scorn of Louie and Jim for the 
ready-made fireplace had kindled Blake’s ire 
anew. 

“They look as though they’d been planned 
by a group of artists or moving picture di¬ 
rectors,” suggested Gray. “Those cabins are 
nothing more than doll houses in comparison 
with Louie’s comfortable camps.” 

Louie had explained to Gray upon arriving 
at Whitney Lake that they would make their 



God Does Answer Prayer 


203 


headquarters at this state erected camp in lieu 
of one of his own cabins or another camp site 
as convenient to the trail. 

‘^Waal/’ drawled Blake, and spat medita¬ 
tively, ’twa’n’t long ago that thar was heaps 
o’ fine camps like Louie’s, spread all ’round 
through th’ woods.” 

^‘Why, what happened to them?” asked 
Gray in surprise, for Blake’s tone implied that 
such camps no longer existed. ‘ ‘ Did they burn 
down?” 

Every last one of ’em was torn down by 
th’ state!” 

‘^Why didn’t the state buy the camps that 
were already built, when they were found to 
be on state land?” queried Gray. ‘‘Those old 
woodsmen’s camps would have provided com¬ 
fortable quarters for visitors and those jour¬ 
neying through this part of the country.” 

“That’s jest what we all wanted,” said 
Blake. “Th’ guides ’round here begged fer 
their ol’ home places. Most of ’em was fitted 
out under hard conditions an’ sometimes with 
a big sacrifice. But ’twa’n’t no use—now 
they’re gone» an’ these good fer nothin’ open 
log camps have been built t’ take their places.” 

Gray said nothing for a moment. “I won¬ 
der how Louie and Jim feel about having their 
camps torn down?” ruminated Gray. 

“We’ll mos’ likely find that Louie an’ Jim 
won’t sleep in that there shelter t’night,” said 



204 


The Mysteky of Ktjh-ja-muce: Cave 


Blake. ‘‘I ain’t ever seen one o’ them old tim¬ 
ers use ’em. They seem t’ think they’re built 
fer women an’ children, not men.” Blake 
laughed at the peculiarities of the ^‘old tim¬ 
ers.” He himself, though he disliked the open 
log camps intensely, was not averse to sleeping 
in one of the cabins when no better shelter 
offered. ‘‘Give me a guide’s old log camp any 
day,” he continued presently, “one with th’ 
fireplace inside, built o’ stone, an’ a log ceilin’, 
an’ decent beds or balsam bunks. Them camps 
wa’n’t perfect, but they was satisfyin’. Every 
one o’ them places could have been saved. 
Waal, Louie an’ Jim ’re sittin’ by th’ fire— 
let’s talk with ’em a while.” 

“It’s goin’ t’ be a pretty cold night,” greeted 
Jim as Gray and Blake approached. “Guess 
it’s up t’ Louie an’ me t’ keep th’ fire goin’ 
all night.” 

“Why, that bunk in there is big enough for 
four of us,” said Gray, pointing to the open 
camp. “If we roll up in our blankets we can 
manage to keep warm.” 

“Huh, that’s nothin’ but a reg’lar ice box,” 
snorted Jim, “open t’ th’ north, an’ yuh can’t 
git th’ fire near ’nough ’count o’ that cement 
fireplace. You two boys go t’ sleep in thar an’ 
Louie an’ me’ll keep th’ fire goin’. We ain’t 
had a visit fer quite a spell. We used t’ hit 
it up ’bout once a year t’gether, didn’t we, 
Louie?” 



God Does Answek Peayer 


205 


The old Frenchman remained silent, idly 
poking the fire without looking up. 

^^He mustVe forgot all ’bout it,” continued 
Jim with a sly wink at Blake. 

At this Louie slowly straightened up, turn¬ 
ing to look Jim square in the eyes. 

^^No, Jeem, I ’ave not forget.” The old trap¬ 
per spoke deliberately, choosing his words with 
great care. ‘‘I weesh me eet nevaire happen, 
mais eet ees ze trut’. For ze mos’ of my life 
I am ver’ bad—Sapre! Ma Men’, I weesh 
I was able for forget ze tarn w’en I am drunk 
an’ act lak beeg fool in ze village. Mais eet 
ees not so no tarn no more. 

“Maudit, M’sieu!” went on Louie,, his voice 
vibrant with a growing emotion, ’ave not 
been ze good son for my mot’er—I ’ave ron 
away from her w’en I am small boy, gargon, 
an’ ’ave ze age of fourteen year. Eet was be¬ 
cause I ’ave too mooch work for do, M’sieu. 
My mot’er an’ my fat’er, ze whole famille work 
hard, too. I ’elp my fat’er on ze farm, up in 
Quebec. Ah, eet ees ver’ hard, ze work, for my 
fat’er hee ees strong lak moose, an’ he t’eenk 
ever’body ees strong ze same. Mais, eet ees 
not mak ze diff’rence, M’sieu, ze work ees not 
hurt me, I t’eenk.” 

Louie paused and gazed regretfully into the 
fire, as if forgiving his father for the stern¬ 
ness bitterly resented in his youth. 

^‘Mon pere, he ’ave ze beeg famille, mais all 



206 


The Mysteky of Ktjn-ja-muck Oaye 


ze cMPren ees small. So ze work ees necessaire 
for me. I cut ze hay an’ ’ave care for ze cow 
an ze peeg—ah, I do anything w’at mon pere 
say, an’ I t’ink he say too mooch. So wan day 
I tol’ my mot’er w’en she ees ’elp me in ze fiel’, 
wit’ ze hay. Ah, eet ees break mon ’eart—I 
cannot tol’ eet to you—” Louie’s eyes were 
sad and tenderly deep. 

‘^My mot’er she ees love me,” went on the 
old trapper, ^^an’ she try for mak me ^appy, 
mais eet ees work, work, work, all ze tarn ze 
travail—” In the flickering Are light Louie 
seemed to see that French lad of long ago, on 
the farm in Quebec, a lad whose muscles ached 
while his youthful heart yearned for the play 
that was ever denied to him. To that child the 
father appeared an ogre, brutal as those in the 
fairy tales his mother told him by the hearth 
during the long winter evenings; and his 
mother became the princess of the story, im¬ 
prisoned and powerless, bending her back to 
toil at the bidding of the ogre. 

’ave ask her wan day w’en we are in flel’. 
I say: ^Ma mere, I can stay no more, I am seeck 
from ze work. Do you care eef I ron away ” 

The old Frenchman paused again and sighed. 
The story was causing an anguish of spirit 
which he had not felt for many years, so much 
more bitter was the memory when told aloud 
instead of being repressed within the silent 
chambers of the heart. 



God Does Answee Peayek 


207 


mere,’^ lie resumed, ‘^she ees look at me 
lak ze deer wat ees scared, an’ bimeby her face 
eet ees ver’ sad an’ I feel ze gran’ shame. She 
say to me: ‘Louie, I know how eet ees zat you 
feel, mais wat am I goin’ do wen my Louie ees 
gone'away?’ An’ she ees cry, M’sieu, an’ I 
was goin’ tell her zat I am stay wit’ her. Mais 
she pray—Ave Maria—I know ze prayer, mais 
I cannot tol’ you—an’ I kees her—” He 
stopped, his voice choking. For some time he 
was silent; and his listeners thought much. 
Then abruptly he began again, speaking more 
quickly and in a harsher tone, as if in a hurry 
to pass over something unpleasant. 

“I am go wit’ circus for long tarn, many 
year. I work all ze night an’ sleep in day tarn. 
I was tent man, an’ eet mak no matter eef tent 
man leeve or die. Mordieu! I dreenk lak wan 
fool. An’ wan winter I teenk I go home for 
s’prise ze famille in Quebec. I ’ave mooch 
money, an’ I teenk I geeve some to ma mere. 

“Bet ees night tarn wen I come ze house. I 
teenk ze house was nice house, mais wen I see 
eet—ah, she ’ave no paint an’ ees all come to 
pieces. I go ’roun’ ze house an’ look in ze 
weendow. Eh Men, ma frien’, ma mere ees in 
ze chair, mais how she ees change! Ze hair ees 
w’ite an’ ze face ees t’in. I was not able for 
see my fat’er, an’ I cannot tell who else ces 
t’ere for t’ey ’ave grow so beeg.” 

He stopped and sat still, as if he had finished 



208 


The Mystery oe Khn-ja-muck Cave 


his story. Presently, however, he looked 
around to see if his auditors were interested. 
Then he continued. 

‘‘1 knock on ze door. My seester, she open, 
an’ teen I am canal man an’ want ze bed for 
night. I geeve her two sheelleng an’ go inside. 
Ze eyes of ma mere, t’ey ’ave been old an’ she 
ees not know me at all. T’ey geeve me some- 
t’ing to eat, an’ ma mere she ees begin to tell 
me all ’bout her boy Louie, who ’ave been gone 
away for feefteen year. She say she ees waitin’ 
for heem to come home before she ees die. I 
say: ^W’ere your Louie ees gone? Maybe I 
see heem an’ tell heem come home.’ 

^Ah, M’sieu,’ she say, M weesh eet ees so! 
Ma Louie, he no write, an’ wen hees fat’er die 
we cannot tell heem.’ An’ t’en my seester she 
say: ‘My mot’er pray for Louie come home be¬ 
fore she die.’ My mot’er, t’en she mak sign 
of ze cross an’ pray Ave Maria, wat she pray in 
ze fiel’ ze day wen I firs’ leave home— 

“Ah, I go on my knees by ma mere an’ say: 
‘I am Louie!’ Ma mere, she tak off ol’ glasses 
an’ look at me an’ clap her ban’s an’ kees me 
many tarn. T’en she say: ‘Grod, le bon Dieu, 
’ave hear my prayer an’ he ’ave answer eet!’ 

“I geeve her money, an’ in leetle tarn I go 
’way. Ma mere she no want me go ’way—she 
ee^j pray Ave Maria for me not dreenk ze 
wheeskey an’ leeve lak beast—^mais I want 
heem too mooch, I cannot leeve wit’out dreenk 



God Does Answer Prayer 


209 


ze whiskey. So I go Vay an’ I get drunk some 
more. Mordieu! Ma frien’, no wan ees dreenk 
so mooch as me! I go on ze circus for leetle 
w’ile, an’ in few year I hate ze men in ceety. 
So I come in ze wood. I no lak nobody, only 
ze chil’ren some tarn—eet ees because t’ey 
remin’ me for ma mere, so gentle an’ so sweet. 

beeld wan ver’ fine cabane on ze reever 
Kun-ja-muck w’ere I leeve. Ever’body call 
Louie ol’ diable—devil. Eet ees true, ma frien’, 
I am dreenk all ze tarn. Wan day I see ze 
queen an’ ze gouverneur—ze queen she remin’ 
me for ma mere, an’ she ’ave try ’ard for mak 
me wan good man. She ’ave wan difficile tarn, 
mais she ees nevaire get tire. 

^‘1 tell her wat ma mere say wen she ees pray 
for me, an’ ze queen she say ze prayer of ma 
mere weel be answer some tarn. Ze queen she 
mak me b’lieve on God—le bon Dieu—in ze 
sky, an’ wan day leetle w’ile ago ze queen say 
to me: ^Ah, Louie, God ’ave answer ze prayer 
for you mot’er.’ I am not know wat ze queen 
mean wen she say eet. I know wan t’ing— 
Louie know wat beeg fool an’ bad man he ees, 
an’ he weel not be lak eet no tarn no more.” 

Louie rose and replenished the fire, while 
the three men who had listened to his story in 
rapt attention made no move toward getting 
up. Strangely enough, it was Jim Sturgis who 
broke the silence. The bronzed old woodsman, 
whose face was seamed and wrinkled, spoke in 



210 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muce: Cave 


a voice trembling with emotion, a voice which 
hesitated at every few words. 

^^So—I wondered why yuh didn’t—^hit it off 
with me no more—Yer mother prayed—^prayed 
—an’ God answered it.” 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LOUIE SAYS FAREWELL 

He who guides may choose the way, 

And little we heed what path we take, 

If nearer home each day. 

L ouie and Jim were up at dawn, but Gray 
j and Blake were soundly sleeping when 
Jim woke them. In a moment they were 
at the lakeside, and after washing in the cold 
water they reported to Louie, asking if they 
could help in preparing the breakfast. 

‘‘Work ees all done—^we eat now,’’ chirped 
the Frenchman. 

“You’ve spoiled us on this trip,” said Gray. 
“We haven’t worked half hard enough.” 

Louie said nothing, but continued to set out 
the food. When he had finished and every¬ 
thing was arranged to satisfy his taste, he 
motioned his three companions to eat. 

“Eat, ma frien’,” he said with a gesture, 
“for ze nex’ meal you ’ave weel be at ze Bear- 
foot Inn.” 

The announcement fairly startled Gray and 
Blake. Jim looked at their astonished faces 
and said in his droll, good-natured way, “Louie 
hit yuh kind o’ hard, didn’t he 

“Yuh bet he did,” said Blake emphatically, 


211 


212 


The Mysteey of Ktjh-ja-muck: Cave 


and glanced at Cray expectantly, as if wishing 
him to take up the conversation. The latter 
was somewhat taken aback, as his preconceived 
ideas of what this trip might reveal had been 
rudely shattered by Louie’s simple statement. 

‘‘Well,” he ventured, “Jack and I have had 
such a good time over here that I suppose we’d 
stay on forever if Louie didn’t send us home.” 
The words were no sooner out of his mouth 
than he mentally kicked himself for voicing 
the suggestion that he and Blake were noth¬ 
ing more than puppets to be nloved about at 
Louie’s will. And yet, Cray thought, he and 
Blake couldn’t do anything else. 

While they ate Louie explained that Jim 
would guide them through to the old military 
road leading into Orendaga. 

“We’ll go up ’rormd Pillsbury Lake,” said 
Jim. “My canoe’s down here ready t’ use. 
’F we leave in ’bout a hour yuh c’n be in Oren¬ 
daga by five o’clock.” 

Cray and Blake acquiesced, knowing that 
any protest on their part would be useless, and 
furthermore, that out of courtesy to Louie, 
who had made their trip so enjoyable, they 
must follow his wishes for the present. 

Louie packed a lunch for them to eat at noon, 
putting it in Blake’s basket. The Frenchman 
volunteered to walk with them as far as the 
brook which fiowed from Puddle Hole. It was 
his way of showing respect to those he trusted. 



Louie Says Farewell 


213 


He did not cross the brook on the stepping 
stones, however, but halted at one side of the 
path. 

Giving his right hand to Blake and his left 
to Gray, he said, ‘^Bet ’ave mak mooch plaisir 
for me for you to come here. I see you on 
Kun-ja-muck in Octobre, an’ Leeveengstone 
boys, too!” 

We’ll be there all right,” rejoined Gray 
fervently. ^‘We want to explore that stream 
and the lakes and ponds. I wonder if you’ll 
mind if we build a log house up there some¬ 
where?” 

‘‘Bet weel geeve me ze gran’ happiness!” 
exclaimed Louie. ‘ Wou can mak heem on wes’ 
side trail by Kun-ja-muck near ol’ lumber 
camp. Bet ees in ze center of ze Kun-ja-muck 
countree.” 

‘‘That would put us about four miles from 
your cabin and five from Orendaga, wouldn’t 
it?’' asked Gray. 

“Jest ’bout,” broke in Blake. “We c’n git 
our supplies by wagon er mebbe by canoe t’ th’ 
landin’ ’t th’ head o’ Blm Lake.” 

“We want you to visit us often,” said Gray 
to Louie. “We never can fully repay you for 
all you’ve done for us on this trip, but some 
day we’re going to show you how much we 
appreciate your kindness.” 

“I ’ave done ver’ leetle,” said Louie simply. 
He stood a moment looking down at the ground 



214 


The Mysteey of Ktjh-ja-mtjck Cave 


in silence. revoir!’’ lie said abruptly, 

and vanished up the trail. 

Jim Sturgis immediately started oJff, Gray 
and Blake following. There was not a word 
spoken until Jim lifted his canoe from its hid¬ 
ing place and carried it to the water’s edge. 

‘‘I thought,” said Jim, ^Hhat Mr. Gray 
would like t’ see this end o’ th’ lake, as well 
as South Bay, which begins down thar by them 
tw'o islands. Most people don’t know that this 
here lake is higher ’n any other ’round here, 
’ceptin’ Deep Lake. It’s ’bout twenty-five 
hundred feet ’bove sea level.” 

‘‘Pretty high,” commented Gray. 

“ ’Tain’t ’s nice as th’ others,” remarked 
Blake. 

“IJsed t’ have a camp up here,” drawled 
Jim in his slow way. “That was some years 
ago. Deer was thicker in them days, an’ they 
was plenty o’ mushrat an’ mink—used t’ git 
fishers an’ marten ’round th’ Cedar Lakes.” 

As Jim and Blake paddled through the lake, 
turning at the islands so that Gray could see 
South Bay, Jim continued with his remi¬ 
niscences. 

“Eight over thar,” he declared, pointing to 
the northeast end of the lake, “was whar my 
camp used t’ stand. That’s whar I first met 
Louie Lament.” 

Jim paused expectantly, as is the way with 
woodsmen when about to commence a tale of 



Louie Says Pakewell 


215 


more than passing interest to their listeners. 
After the awaited encouragement from Blake, 
Jim cleared his throat and continued. 

‘‘I was all alone one night in November, set- 
tin’ in my cabin, when I heard a knock on the 
door. Opened it, an’ thar was Louie. ’Pore I 
could do anythin’ he busted right inf th’ room 
—^half drunk, he was, an’ a more dev’lish 
lookin’ critter I never see. He didn’t tell me 
his name, an’ wa’n’t friendly er nothin’. I 
fixed him somethin’ f eat an’ give him a bed. 
He took ’em ’thout bein’ coaxed, an’ didn’t 
say thanks fer ’em neither. 

‘^Waal, I couldn’t sleep much; kep’ up th’ 
fire an’ kep’ a close eye on him, too. ’Long 
toward mornin’ I fell into a sound sleep—an’ 
when I woke up he was gone. I didn’t run 
’cross him agin fer months—saw traces of his 
huntin’ an’ trappin’, but never him. Looked 
f me like he wa’n’t very anxious f see any 
human bein’, an’ f tell yuh th’ truth, I wa’n’t 
very anxious ’bout seein’ him agin, I c’n tell 
yuh.” 

know what yuh mean,” said Blake. 
^^Yuh saw him sev’ral years ’fore I did, but 
I’ll never fergit my first sight of him. I took 
him fer a crim’nal er somethin’ worse. He 
sure is another man now, though.” 

^^That ain’t been proved,” objected Jim. 
course, th’ change has been cornin’ on slow 
fer th’ las’ three years; but yuh c’n r’member, 



216 


The Mysteky oe Kun-ja-muce: Cave 


Jack, how he got drunk two winters ago after 
sellin’ all his skins an^ gittin’ all his supplies? 
Jest wait Til next January er February when 
he goes inf Orendaga. Then weTl have a 
chance V see if he really is changed fer good.’’ 

The canoe grated on the shore where the trail 
leading to the old military road began. They 
walked along this path for a mile before com¬ 
ing out on the highway where Jim was to leave 
them. He said farewell briefly; perhaps his 
recent talkativeness had reacted into more than 
his ordinary reticence, but at any rate he was 
extremely frugal with words as he took leave 
of his companions. 

Gray and Blake were now eager to reach 
Orendaga. Their journey into the West 
Canada Lake region was at an end; and they 
felt gratifled and chagrined by turns at the 
progress they had made toward solving the 
mystery of the Kun-ja-muck Cave. They soon 
crossed the Miami, taking the Lewey Lake 
road at the clearing where Camp Perkins used 
to stand. Blake stopped long enough to show 
Gray the spot where the buildings had stood. 
He described the plan of the camp and told 
of the delightful days that many visitors from 
the city had spent there; it was also a rendez¬ 
vous for many of the Orendaga guides and lum¬ 
bermen, and Blake had passed many a winter 
evening in the jolly company of his own kind. 

There lay the foundation of the old stone 



Louie Says Farewell 


217 


fireplace, now in ruins. The chimney of the 
kitchen where those delicious meals had been 
prepared was yet standing, stark and drear 
against the sky line. 

^‘It stood on state land,’’ said Blake, barely 
concealing his feelings about the sort of thing 
that he and Gray then looked at. ‘^So it was 
condemned an’ torn down—an’ this is all that’s 
left t’ tell th’ story.” 

In contrast to the demolished hunting camp 
stood the open camp, its uselessness proved in 
startling fashion by the cement fireplace which 
bore no marks of fire, though it had been there 
for several years. At the very place where 
guides, woodsmen, hunters from the city, and 
those who had come for fishing trips used to 
gather, there was now only a welter of weeds 
and undergrowth. 

With a grunt of disgust Blake struck off 
down the road, not looking back until he had 
reached the Jessup Eiver bridge. He waited 
for Gray to come abreast with him at the 
bridge, and then halted the march to drink 
in the beauties of the river bank. The water 
above the bridge looked deep and was without 
a ripple. Every fern,, flower and tree along 
its shore was mirrored perfectly in the smooth 
surface. For half an hour they lingered at the 
bridge. Gray pointing out to Blake many of the 
different kinds of flowers nearby and telling 
him their names. 



218 


The Mysteky of Kith-ja-muck Cave 


Then they struck out with a stiff stride for 
Orendaga, making up for lost time. On their 
homeward journey they talked so earnestly 
that they failed to notice the hills and dales 
which they passed. The great expanse of Lake 
Pleasant valley suddenly opened before them 
as they topped Page’s Hill, and every building 
in the village of Orendaga could be plainly 
distinguished. There lay the lake with its 
sandy beaches and the Sacandaga River 
threading its way toward the Hudson. The 
little white church was most conspicuous be¬ 
cause of its steeple; but there was one other 
building which the eyes of both men eagerly 
sought—^the Bearfoot Inn, nestled in the hills 
overlooking the lake. They gazed upon the 
village without comment for several minutes. 

‘^WeVe seen some beautiful places,” said 
Blake, ^^but this here’s th’ spot whar a feller 
has a real welcome, an’ he c’n well call it 
^home’.” 



CHAPTER XVIII. 


MIKE’S FOUL TRADE 

When the golden evening gathered on the shore of Galilee, 

When the fishing boats lay quiet by the sea, 

Long ago the people wondered, tho’ no sign was in the sky. 

For the glory of the Lord was passing by. 

Not in robes of purple splendor, not in silken softness shod. 

But in raiment worn with travel came their God; 

And the people knew His presence by the heart that ceased to sigh, 
When the glory of the Lord was passing by. 

For He healed their sick at even, and He cured the leper's sore. 
And sinful men and women sinned no more. 

And the world grew mirthful hearted and forgot its misery. 

When the glory of the Lord was passing by. 

Not in robes of purple splendor, but in lives that do His will. 

In patient acts of kindness comes He still; 

And the people cry with wonder, tho’ no sign is in the sky. 

That the glory of the Lord is passing by. 

O N the evening of their return to Oren- 
daga Gray and Blake dined with Uncle 
David and Paul Ward at the Bearfoot 
Inn. They were in a small private room, free 
from interruption, where they discussed the 
trip, and the mystery over the coffee. To Gray 
and Blake, this was an admirable opportunity 
to take stock, to review what they had actually 
accomplished toward the end desired. 

Their first great achievement had been the 
winning of Louie Lament; second was the dis¬ 
covery that the mysterious being of the Kun- 
ja-muck Cave was not only one, but two at 

219 


j 


220 


The Mysteey of Ktjh-ja-mijck Cave 


least, and that Louie was an integral part of 
the mesh of secrecy that seemed to surround 
them; and finally, Cray and Blake were certain 
that the mystery had forsaken the Kun-ja- 
muck in favor of the West Canada Lake region 
during their recent trip, and that there was a 
woman in the mystery, a woman whom Louie 
called ‘^ze queen/’ The two friends had every 
assurance that in due time the entire mystery 
would be revealed to them, for Louie had prom¬ 
ised, “Some tarn you know, not now.” 

The four men seated about the dinner table, 
their heads close together in a discussion of 
this intensely interesting problem,: came to 
agree that the most peculiar phase of the 
mystery was the remarkable change that had 
apparently occurred in Louie. That these per¬ 
sons whom he had protected—the queen and 
the governor, as he called them—^had exerted a 
powerful infiuence for good upon the old trap¬ 
per, was very clear to all who knew Louie even 
slightly. 

Gray, in the serenity of the forest and the 
quiet of the evening camp fires, had lost some¬ 
thing of his enthusiasm for running the mys¬ 
tery to earth. The stillness, the largeness of 
nature, had calmed his own unrest. Most of 
the time, he now realized, he had journeyed as 
in a dream, led through a realm of beauty while 
his cleverness lay dormant. Now that he had 
returned to give an account of himself he felt 



Mike’s Foul Tkade 


221 


some chagrin, for the mystery was still rm- 
solved. True, he and Blake were closer to the 
heart of it, but not close enough to make their 
knowledge satisfactory. The whole matter de¬ 
pended on Louie, Louie! 

The old French trapper, now that distance 
had dissolved the spell he seemed to have cast 
over Gray and Blake, was, to the younger men, 
more unreal than ever. The way he had led 
them about was positively uncanny; yet they 
had willingly followed. Louie told them many 
things about nature, things which they had not 
known before; and in broken phrases and pic¬ 
turesque imagery he had revealed an almost 
mystical faith in the God of nature. 

Yes, Gray was dissatisfied with the trip. 
Why had he and Blake not taken a high hand, 
used all the native sagacity of the woodsman 
and the finesse of the university graduate to 
discover the identity of persons whom they had 
actually seen again and again? While the 
other three men talked, Gray tried to come to 
some conclusion about it in his own mind; and 
he failed because, at every point, he ran against 
the same barrier—Louie! Knowing Louie, he 
realized that they had done everything possible 
under the circumstances. Louie had kept them 
interested in the things they saw along the 
trails, in the habits of wild animals, in his pets, 
in everything—except the mystery. It had 
seemed not to count, and yet it was their sole 



222 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-mtjok Oaye 


reason for undertaking the journey to the 
West Canada Lakes. 

Early in the evening visitors began to drop 
in at the Bearfoot Inn—Milt Boyd, Isaiah 
Pikes and his wife, Bob Stuart, and others who 
had learned of the return of Gray and Blake. 
The four who had dined together came out into 
the Woods Room of the Inn shortly after the 
laughter and sounds of jollity from the other 
room proclaimed the presence of those who 
were so interested in the results of the trip. 
Mattie was the first to greet Gray and Blake 
as they entered; she had not seen them that 
afternoon as they came into the village, and her 
eagerness to know what they had discovered 
was, for the moment, eclipsed by her happiness 
at seeing the two men again. 

In the midst of the excited questions and 
exchange of greetings, in came Cal Wilks. The 
old guide was as enthusiastic as a boy and 
shook hands with Gray and Blake with an un¬ 
wonted cordiality. 

<<WeVe sent for Mrs. Livingstone and the 
boys,’’ announced Mattie with a happy smile. 

‘‘How did you manage it?” asked Gray, 
rather surprised that the occasion was taking on 
the character of a reception. He had not antici¬ 
pated the presence of so many of the villagers. 

“It was easy,” replied Mattie. “Every 
family in the village has been asking for days 
when you and Jack were coming back.” 



Mike’s Fotjl Trade 


223 


Blake was at the other side of the room, in 
earnest conversation with Paul Ward, when 
Gray’s attention was caught by a booming 
question from the lumberman. 

‘ ^ So you’ve had trouble with Mike Murphy ’ ’ 

The conversation hushed abruptly, and Gray 
saw that those present had suddenly become 
serious. It was evident that there was some¬ 
thing of more than ordinary importance in 
the trend of Blake’s question. Ward hesitated 
before making an answer, and in the brief 
moment of his hesitation Gray realized that the 
minister’s face was thinner, the lines deeper, 
and that he had been through some great strug¬ 
gle in the weeks while the two friends were 
absent. As Ward began to speak, however, his 
eyes held a light of resoluteness and firmness. 

^‘Mike Murphy did his best to block you,” 
said Ward. ^^He knew of your plan to go 
into the West Canada Lake region, and dis¬ 
patched Sandy Edwards to find Louie and to 
tell him why you were going.” 

Then Gray knew that Murphy’s actions on 
the night of the minstrel show were a rank de¬ 
ception ; he knew why the bootlegger had per¬ 
mitted that single malevolent glare as he left 
the hall. 

‘‘Sandy reached Louie the night before you 
left Orendaga,” continued the minister, “and 
we feared that, as a result, Louie would either 
ignore you or attempt to force your immediate 



224 


The Mysteey of Kun-ja-mijck Cave 


return. We have not learned what Sandy told 
Louie, but we know that for some reason Sandy 
located old Abe Smith and called upon him to 
stand by Mike in his treachery.’’ 

‘‘But Louie stuck to you,” broke in Uncle 
David, turning to Gray, “instead of obeying 
Mike Murphy.” 

“Now I c’n see why Louie was waitin’ fer 
us an’s’prised us that night in camp, ” said 
Blake to Gray. “That’s why he let us see inf 
th’ myst’ry’s far’s he could—he wanted us f 
know that he’d been changed.” 

“I learned to-day,” continued Ward, “that 
Mike Murphy sent a quart of whiskey to Louie 
when Sandy went to tell him that you were 
coming. Sandy came into Rob’s store while I 
was there this morning and let out the whole 
story. Sandy said Mike sealed the bottle so 
he and Abe Smith would be sure to deliver it. 
Mike knew that if he could get Louie started 
drinking again, it would put hundreds of dol¬ 
lars in his own pocket, and that’s why he tried 
to play the friend to Louie by giving him the 
information and the whiskey. 

“You should have heard Sandy tell about it. 
He and Abe reached Louie the day before you 
went to West Canada Lake; they thought Louie 
would be delighted with the liquor, and they 
wanted to be there to see you driven out of the 
woods. Louie just listened to Mike’s message, 
took the bottle, and smiled. Abe and Sandy 



Mike’s Foul Trade 


225 


were sure that the old trapper would give them 
a drink—^but Louie walked over to his big out¬ 
door fireplace and set the bottle on top of it. 
With his rifie in his hand he walked back a 
little way, took aim, and shot the bottle 
through the heart,’ as he called it. Then he 
turned to Mike’s henchmen and said, ^Go home, 
ma Men’, an’ tell Mike Murphy.’ ” 

The minister stopped, and the little company 
in the Woods Room murmured to one another 
in wonder. They had not known, any more 
than Gray and Blake had known, that Mur¬ 
phy’s treachery had attempted the frustration 
of the quest. Ward came nearer to Gray, and 
explained what Murphy had done. 

‘^Mike had smuggled in a quantity of liquor, 
through some political pull, and before he knew 
it he had his old gang around him again. They 
became like demons let loose, and their families 
began to suffer terribly. You see, Mike learned 
that you and Jack had gone away, and said 
that it was a good time for the boys to have 
a little fun. All he thinks about is money—^he 
knew that the men who craved the stuff would 
pay any price for it. We’ve had terrible times 
here, and the worst part of it is that the fam¬ 
ilies suffer so. 

‘‘You know that Perry had saved almost 
enough to buy Dexter Strong’s twenty acre 
farm. His wife had slaved and put away the 
pennies; she and the children even picked her- 



226 


The Mysteky of Ktjh-ja-muck Cave 


ries all summer to earn some extra money. 
They thought it was safe, but Perry got it 
when he found Mike had a supply of liquor.’’ 

The minister’s voice was filled with a sincere 
compassion. The struggle had been a hard one 
for him; the limit of his strength had nearly 
been reached in his tireless efforts to provide 
for the families of those who spent their time 
and money in Mike’s Temperance Parlor. 

Mrs. Livingstone and the boys came in just 
as Ward finished. Tom and Bill were over¬ 
joyed to see their friends back again, and Mrs. 
Livingstone, though less effusive, was no less 
sincere in her welcome to Cray and Blake. The 
boys were told many incidents of the trip and 
of the plans for going up the Kun-ja-muck 
in October. Presently the gathering began to 
dwindle in mnnbers, for these old guides were 
unaccustomed to staying up late at night. After 
bidding all his friends good-night. Gray sug¬ 
gested to Ward that they go out on the porch 
where later they might see the glory of the 
mid-summer moon as it rose over the lake. 

Blake and Mattie remained in the living 
room of the Inn, she, eager to hear from his 
lips the whole story of the trip in aU its detail, 
and he, immeasurably happy to talk with her 
again after so long an absence. Uncle David, 
who had gone out to the porch with Gray and 
Ward, excused himself with the plea that he 



Mike’s Foul Tkade 


227 


must make the Inn ready for the night, thus 
leaving Gray and the minister alone. 

It was very satisfying for them to be to-* 
gether after what had seemed a period of long 
absence, though in reality only three weeks, 
for they were genuinely interested in each 
other. They wandered out to a point along the 
shore, where the solitude of the summer eve¬ 
ning was made more impressive by the abso¬ 
lute calm of the lake. 

The two friends were quiet during the twi¬ 
light interim between day and dark; they 
watched the stars appear silently, one by one, 
in the infinite meadows of heaven.” It was 
August, but the night was cool and crisp. The 
moon, unseen as the sunset afterglow grad¬ 
ually faded, now appeared a mellow crescent 
in the western sky. 

In low voices the two men talked of the 
things that interested them both—God, nature 
and man. Ward was not an ordinary man, for 
his interests were wide and his knowledge cov¬ 
ered many fields. Well read in science and 
philosophy, something of a linguist, a thor¬ 
ough student of literature, this pastor yet had 
a deep sympathy for men and a tremendous 
understanding of the human heart and soul. 

Ward commenced to tell Gray more of his 
work in this little Adirondack village, a vil¬ 
lage whose population numbered less than two 
hundred souls, and where the church members 



228 The Mysteky of Kijn-ja-muck Cave 


were hardly an eighth of that number. He told 
of his fight against Mike Murphy and the gang 
of bootleggers that he represented. Gray had 
not realized what untold misery and suffering 
was daily brought into the homes of some of the 
villagers, how the innocent were forced to en¬ 
dure privation solely because a man who was 
the very incarnation of fleshy lust and who 
feared neither God, man, nor devil, had placed 
temptation in the way of those whose minds 
were too weak to resist. 

almost think I could watch Mike Murphy 
go to Hades with satisfaction,’^ declared Ward 
vehemently, ^^and some of his gang with him 
—if it were not for their families—^but no man 
is hopeless in the sight of the Lord.” 

He stopped and sighed deeply. He was not 
easily discouraged, but at times he felt that his 
fight against Murphy was a losing one. 

^‘Mike is one of the stopping stations on a 
rum trail from up-state to the greater cities,” 
went on Ward in explanation of Mike’s foul 
trade. ‘ ^ We are supposed to have Prohibition, 
but liquor runs through from Montreal to this 
section just as these mountain streams flow 
unimpeded into the Hudson. Old Abe Smith 
has been suspected, Sandy, Sam Woodward— 
scores of others, but it’s no use. Mike has too 
much power. Other guides are under suspicion 
as well, and if it were not for Jack Blake, Mike 
would have an easier time. Mike doesn’t want 



Mike’s Foul Tkade 


229 


Jack to have any influence in the woods— 
Jack’s word has a great deal of weight with 
these lumbermen, and he hates Mike and his 
gang. You see that’s why Mike tried to thwart 
your plans—^he knows that if Jack Blake 
stumbles on his trail or on that of his rum run¬ 
ners, the traffic will be ruined for him.” 

“If Murphy hates us that much, I imagine 
we will have a good many added difficulties to 
cope with when we go up the Kun-ja-muck 
next month,” said Gray, thoughtfully. 

It was still very early in the evening, for 
lights in the village were gleaming, when they 
decided to make their way back. Venus, 
the evening star, had disappeared from the 
heavens while the two men talked, and the 
moon was now at the point of setting, seeming 
to rest on the crest of a dark bank of clouds 
just above Turtle Mountain. Deep red, its 
horn looked like the flaming prow of some olden 
ship, burning in mid-ocean. Gently, the ever 
dimming crescent slipped beneath the bank of 
clouds into the great sea of interstellar space 
beyond the mountains. 

Softly, almost in a whisper. Ward spoke, 
looking out over the stillness of the lake and 
then raising his eyes to the heavens: 

“For the bright Armament 
Shoots forth no flame 
So silent, but is eloquent 
In speaking the Creator’s name.” 



CHAPTER XIX. 


THE SILVER BROOK CAMP 

The world is too much with us; late and soon, 

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; 

Little we see in nature that is ours; 

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! 

This sea that bares her bosom to the moon; 

The winds that will be howling at all hours. 

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers. 

For this, for everything, we are out of tune. 

It moved us not. 

G ray and Blake spent the following 
morning in selecting tools and other ma¬ 
terials for the new camp to be erected 
up the Kun-ja-muck. Later in the day they 
met Mattie in the living room of the Inn, and 
the three pored over a topographical map cov¬ 
ering the Indian Lake quadrangle. They 
began by tracing the route each one of them 
had taken many times, beginning at the dock 
of the Bearfoot Inn on Lake Pleasant, con¬ 
tinuing along the great sandy beach, and enter¬ 
ing the Sacandaga River at the bridge. 

“The meadows through here,’’ said Gray, 
indicating the fields just beyond the bridge, 
“are one of the most interesting places I’ve 
visited an5rwhere around Orendaga. I call 
that section my bird paradise—it was when I 
first came up here, in late May and June, that 
I discovered a number of different songsters 

230 


The Silvee Beook Camp 


231 


and birds of really brilliant plumage. Between 
that bridge and the mouth of the Kun-ja-muck 
is a regular rendezvous for warblers.’’ 

‘‘As we leave this here region o’ th’ Sacan- 
daga,” interrupted Blake, pointing to a spot 
marked as a marsh on the map, “we enter th’ 
Kun-ja-muck. An’ right here’s th’ cave,” he 
finished, making a small dot farther up on the 
map with his pencil. 

“That certainly is a crooked stream!” ob¬ 
served Grray with a whistle of amazement. 

“Oh, but that’s why it’s so mysterious and 
picturesque,” Mattie suggested. “It’s the 
canoeist’s paradise.” 

“ ’Twas jest six year ago that we lumbered 
east o’ Elm Lake an’ over th’ Big Range,” said 
Blake, sweeping a blunt finger across the map 
at one side of the Kun-ja-muck. 

“Show us the spot you’ve chosen for your 
camp, Jack, ’ ’ begged Mattie. 

“Waal, thar ain’t but one choice, t’ my way 
o’thinkin’.” 

“That’s exciting,” commented Grray with an 
inquisitive smile. 

“Where is it?” urged Mattie, a bright light 
in her eyes. 

“Right over thar!” pronounced Blake, mak¬ 
ing another dot on the map. 

“On Silver Brook!” exclaimed the girl 
joyously. 

“Yep,” said Blake with pride and satisfac- 



232 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mxjce: Cave 


tion in Ms tone, Silver Brook on one side, 
th’ Knn-ja-muck on t’other, an’ th’ outlet o’ 
Lonely Creek right across from it. Th’ spot 
faces south, an’ has a good view in three direc¬ 
tions—east, south an’ west. Yuh c’n git thar 
by water, an’ it’s jest off’n th’ main trail, ’bout 
six mile from here an’ four from Louie’s 
cabin.” 

‘ ^ Splendid! ’ ’ exclaimed Mattie. ‘ ‘ Why, any¬ 
one can walk up there in a couple of hours, or 
even go up with old Dan in the buckboard when 
supplies are needed.” 

‘‘ ’Tain’t located on either trail,” Blake con¬ 
tinued to explain. ^Mt’s ’bout a five-minute 
walk from either. That’ll give Louie an’ his 
^queen’ an’ th’ ‘gov’nor’ plenty o’ freedom t’ 
come an’ go when they’ve a mind to. Then 
they won’t feel that we’re tryin’ t’ corner ’em 
or butt in on ’em.” 

“That’s wise. Jack,” said Gray. “Those 
companions of Louie’s are too intelligent for 
us to get anywhere by spying on them. There’s 
only one thing for us to do, and that is to wait 
until they see fit to surrender. I’m convinced 
of that now. Louie will not desert them, and 
he won’t reveal their secrets beyond what they 
themselves permit. They intend to make them¬ 
selves known some time—Louie told us that.” 

“Thar ain’t no doubt ’bout that,” said 
Blake, “an’ that’s why I picked out this here 
spot whar Silver Brook joins th’ Kun-ja-muck. 




The S11.VEK Bkook Camp 


233 


They c’n live up t’ Louie’s cabin ’thout bein’ 
disturbed, an’ if Louie wants us with him up 
thar we c’n go, an’ he c’n visit us in jest th’ 
same way.” 

‘‘We can be off by eight in the morning,” 
suggested Gray as Blake rolled up the map 
they had. been studying. “Tom and Bill Liv¬ 
ingstone promised to be on hand at seven, and 
Cal and Isaiah have offered to help us clear 
up the spot and lay the logs. Rob Stevens is 
going to carry the supplies up on the buck- 
board, and he’s agreed to stay as long as we 
need him with his horses. ’ ’ 

The next evening found seven men and two 
horses snugly protected by a rough shack on 
the camp site. The men were eager to begin 
work the next day on the Silver Brook cabin; 
each guide had carefully inspected the location 
with the authoritative air of a connoisseur in 
such matters, and had pronounced the spot sat¬ 
isfactory in every way. In the deepening dusk 
they sat around the big fire which lighted up 
the woods and warmed their hastily built bal¬ 
sam beds. They told stories by turn until the 
pastime grew wearisome. 

Blake had brought his violin. He stood in 
the circle of the fire light and played songs 
that they all knew, the old-time melodies from 
dance tunes to hymns. For some of them it was 
a novel experience and they sat there spell¬ 
bound, impressed by the majesty of the night 



234 


The Mystery of Ktjn-ja-mtjck Cave 


and the charm of the music. The moon had 
gone down very early,; unnoticed; and in the 
great dark expanse under the stars they lay 
down to sleep, leaving one man on guard to 
keep the fire burning. 

On either side of the Kun-ja-muck lay Silver 
Brook and Lonely Creek, rippling and tinkling 
as they bounded over the rocks or tumbled over 
miniature falls on their way to join the Kun- 
ja-muck, then the Sacandaga and Hudson, and 
finally the sea. 

Dawn was ushered in by one of those glorious 
Adirondack sunrises which, with the sombre 
banks of foliage and the mountains round 
about, thrilled Cray with its grandeur. Though 
scenes of such a nature were new to none of 
the others, they were filled with more than ordi¬ 
nary enthusiasm; the Livingstone boys in par¬ 
ticular shouted and capered about in high glee. 

Every man was assigned to his work as cook 
or helper; and it was not long before they were 
eating breakfast. Cray, between mouthfuls, 
tried to sketch to the other men Blake’s idea 
for laying out the camp. Breakfast over, the 
point hummed with activity. Cal and Isaiah 
hauled and piled rocks into the shape of a back 
log fireplace, while the others cut logs and 
dragged them to the site of the cabin—a little 
knoll which gave a wide prospect on the south 
and east. 

At the end of the day two cabins of spruce 



The Silvek Beook Camp 


235 


logs were completed, even to the rough, but 
waterproof, thatching of bark that made them 
so quaint and picturesque. Blake and Rob 
Stevens returned to Orendaga during the 
afternoon and brought back stoves and other 
needed winter supplies. The Livingstone boys 
had busied themselves with felling birches for 
furniture, and brought in an empty hornets’ 
nest for decoration. The next day Cal, Isaiah 
and Rob returned to the village, promising to 
visit the camp at Silver Brook whenever oppor¬ 
tunity offered. 

The early autumn days passed all too quickly 
in the many occupations connected with set¬ 
tling in and furnishing a camp. Making fur¬ 
niture, building balsam bunks, fashioning a 
comfortable lounge, candlesticks and numer¬ 
ous other things kept the Livingstone boys 
especially in a fever of activity. At the larger 
cabin a fireplace was built of great rocks, for 
both Gray and Blake agreed that an open 
hearth was indispensable to a cheerful cabin. 
Each one of the four was left free to carry out 
his own inclinations. There were plenty of 
pike in Elm Lake, and Gray soon became adept 
at landing a fish after a good tussle. Up the 
Kun-ja-muck they went after trout, and any¬ 
where in the woods nearby partridge were 
plentiful. 

Gray and Blake were astounded at the 
wealth of knowledge, pertaining to nature and 



236 


The Mystery of Kijh-ja-mhck Cave 


the things of the woods, possessed by Tom and 
Bill Livingstone; and as time went on, the won¬ 
der of the older men grew. Gray had had but 
a smattering of knowledge regarding the birds 
of the Adirondacks when he first came away 
from the city, but under Tom’s tutelage he 
learned to recognize every bird that could be 
found in that region. 

‘‘Tom seems to see everything, and finds it 
all beautiful or useful,” said Gray to Blake 
one time after a trip into the forest. 

While Tom made of himself an expert in 
building rustic furniture and in the study of 
birds and fiowers. Bill indulged to the limit his 
fascination for animal life, roots and herbs. 
Seldom did a day pass without an instance of 
their uncanny proficiency in the crafts which 
they loved so well. One day Bill would show 
Gray a coolworth leaf and explain how the top 
could be used for healing. Again he amazed 
both the older men by showing them a supply 
of balsam bark jelly which he had made up for 
colds; boneset and smartweed for infiammation 
and sprains; mountain ash and ironwood to 
purify the blood; nervine, ginseng —a multi¬ 
tude of things which Gray and Blake had not 
known were in existence. 

One evening just at twilight the campers saw 
a little man walking slowly down the east bank 
of the Kun-ja-muck. He was guiding a birch 
bark canoe by means of a long, slender pole 



The Shaver Brook Camp 


237 


fastened to its bow. The craft was loaded 
enough to make it ride steadily as the current 
carried it downstream and to hold its course 
through the occasional rapids. At first the 
men at the Silver Brook cabin were uncertain 
as to the stranger’s identity and the cargo 
which he had packed in the canoe. Blake 
walked up the opposite bank of the stream 
until he came even with the stranger. 

Hullo, Theodore!” he suddenly called out. 
‘‘What yuh got thar'F” 

“I’ll see yuh over thar, Jack, soon’s I git t’ 
Silver Brook,” replied Theodore, who was, ap¬ 
parently, an old friend of Blake’s. “I’m goin’ 
t’ camp here fer th’ night.” 

“Yuh’re most thar,” shouted Blake. 
“We’ve built a couple o’ cabins right on th’ 
point thar, an’ ’spect t’ stay all winter.” 

“I want t’ know!” ejaculated Theodore. 
“Best place on th’ Kun-ja-muck, ’ceptin’ two.” 

“Waal, we thought ’twas th’ best,” affirmed 
Blake. “Whar’s th’ other two places'?” 

“Tell yuh wen I git thar,” said Theodore, 
and proceeded along the bank, loosening the 
canoe from a rock or a sand bar occasionally 
as he slowly advanced. Blake watched him 
pole the canoe close to the shore. Stepping 
carefully into the craft, Theodore stepped 
over something lying in the bottom, gave one 
mighty push with the pole, and shot the canoe 
into the mouth of Silver Brook. 



238 The Mysteky of Khn-ja-mijck Cave 


^‘What's that in the canoe?’’ shouted Tom 
Livingstone, leading Gray and his brother Bill 
in the chase to meet Blake and Theodore. 

‘‘Two bear—a mother an’ her cub,” replied 
Blake. 

Theodore beached the canoe, lighted his old 
pipe, and, after greeting Gray and the boys, 
told how he happened to have such a strange 
cargo. 

“I was jest wanderin’ ’round,” he drawled 
in the slow, deliberate way of the woodsman, 
“sizin’ things up fer th’ huntin’ season—it be¬ 
gins purty soon now, yuh know. Didn’t want 
t’ kill nothin’, jest sort o’ had my gun along fer 
comp’ny. Seen lots o’ deer tracks up ’round 
Hunphrey Mountain, an’ I was jest browsin’ 
’bout up thar when I see the back end o’ some¬ 
thin’ stickin’ out ’hind a big rock. I wa’n’t 
aimin’ t’ shoot nothin’, but when I see this here 
thing move an’ stand up on th’ rock jest ’s 
much’s t’ say ‘ Come on now, let ’er fire’—waal, 
I jest couldn’t help pullin’ th’ ol’ gun up t’ my 
shoulder an’ lettin’ ’er go. Drawed a bead on 
her heart, an’ in a second I thought ’twas all 
over. 

“I see her fall er spring off’n th’ rock, didn’t 
Imow which, but seein’ as she was out o’ sight 
I thought it’d be better t’ wait an’ see ’f she’d 
git up agin. ’P she did, I wa’n’t aimin’ t’ be 
too near, yuh know. Waal, I’m plumb derned 
’f I didn’t see what I thought was that thar 



The Selvek Brook Camp 


239 


bear go sneakin’ ’round th’ other rocks an’ go 
climbin’ fast up th’ mountain. I couldn’t git 
a good aim at her ’coun o’ th’ rocks an’ bushes. 

‘‘I says t’ myself, says I, ‘That’s thunderin’ 
funny— I could o’ swore that bullet o’ mine cut 
her heart plumb in two.’ ’Twas ’bout ’leven 
o’clock in th’ mornin’,, judgin’ from th’ shad¬ 
ows. Waal, when I see that thar wa ’n’t nothin ’ 
more movin’ I walked over t’ that rock t’ see 
if thar was any more tracks, an’ right on 
t’other side whar I see that bear tumble lay 
this here big one, th’ mother! She was hit 
jest whar I aimed fer—an’ she died so quick 
she didn’t git a chance t’ say good-bye er give 
any advice. I could tell by her breast that 
she was nursin’ one cub anyways. I knew 
he’d git lonesome fer his ma, an’ ’f I waited 
’round thar long enough, he’d come back after 
a while t’ git his dinner. 

“Would yuh b’lieve it, but that thar little 
feller waited ’til ’bout three hours ago ’fore he 
dared t’ show his nose agin! I heard him 
cornin’ a longways away. He was cryin’ jest 
like a baby, an’ I let him come ’til I could hear 
him sobbin’. He’d take a couple o’ steps, then 
wait a minute, an’ when he was sure thar 
wa’n’t nobody ’round he cried all th’ louder. 
I didn’t kill him ’cause I wanted to, but I de¬ 
cided th’ best way t’ cheer him up was t’ send 
him t’ th’ happy huntin’ grounds same’s th’ 
mother. So here they be, th’ both of ’em.” 



240 


The Mystery oe Ktjh-ja-mtjck Cave 


‘‘We know how yuh hate t’ kill/^ observed 
Blake drily. “Yuh were probably jest sizin’ 
things up like yuh say—^but with th’ under¬ 
standing ’tween you an’ th’ gun that nothin’ 
’d git by yuh. Waal, come on up, Theodore, 
an’ have some supper. Yuh c’n sleep in th’ 
shack over thar—it’s warm, an’ a good shelter 
if it should rain er snow th’ way it’s liable to.” 

Theodore sat down to supper with the four 
campers; he ate fast, shovelling great spoon¬ 
fuls of food into his mouth and gulping like 
a starved animal. 

“Now tell us, Theodore,” said Blake after 
they had been eating for a few minutes, “what 
are th’ two camp sites yuh like better’n this 
one here?” 

Theodore laid down his spoon, more because 
he was forced to take a breathing spell than 
because he wanted to answer Blake. 

“Th’ first best place on th’ Kun-ja-muck fer 
a camp is up t’ th’ cave, er near it. D’yuh ever 
take a drink o’ that spring water up thar? 
Best stuff in th’ world. Second best campin’ 
place is whar ol’ Canuck Louie’s got his 
clearin’. It’s right plumb in th’ middle o’ th’ 
trout fishin’—^them lakes. Owl, Rock, an’ Long, 
is full. An’ deer—say, they come up an’ eat 
out’n yer hand. I don’t git a chance t’ go 
’round here much when Louie an’ that feller 
that lives in th’ Kun-ja-muck Cave are here. 
Louie’s got so damn funny like—^he used t’ kill 



The Silver Brook Camp 


241 


these wild critters worse’n me, but now I swear 
he’d kill me instead ’f he ketched me shootin’ 
round here in th’ Kun-ja-muck country. 
’Spose you fellers are lookin’ t’ capture th’ 
cave man, ain’t yuh?” 

Theodore finished with a leer at Gray and 
Blake, and commenced to eat again. His audi¬ 
tors made no reply, but glanced at each other 
significantly. The hunter at length finished his 
supper and settled back comfortably, picking 
his teeth with a splinter of wood. 

‘‘Waal,” he said finally, as the others made 
no effort to open conversation, “I used t’ think 
I’d like t’ see that critter too, but fer nigh onto 
four years I’ve done my huntin’ ’round Whit¬ 
aker Lake an’ as far north’s Squaw Brook— 
jest so thar’d be no danger o’ rimnin’ onto him 
er Louie. It’s most time fer ’em t’ come up 
th’ Kim-ja-muck, so I’m headin’ west an’ south 
—they’re cornin’ east. Don’t look fer me in 
th’ mornin’, boys, ’cause I’m goin’ ’fore day¬ 
light, an’ it’ll be a long time ’fore I come this 
way agin!” 



CHAPTER XX. 


A KNOCK AT THE DOOR 

So you fell just now in the mud, poor heart, 

And to try to rise and be clean is vain? 

Take both my hands, now, and do your part. 

So you stand on your feet again. 

Did nobody tell you your feet might slip? 

Did some one push you? (Such things are done.) 

Was your path so rough that you needs must trip? 

Ah I The blame is on many—^not on one. 

Sobbing still over that ugly stain? 

I may not comfort nor hush you, dear. 

Through such sad tears in their burning rain 
Christ and his cross show clear. 

Must you go sorrowing all your day? 

Dear, in suffering souls grow white; 

Keep my hand through this stormy way— 

See where the west turns bright. 

F or the next week Gray and Blake, with 
the assistance of Tom and Bill Living¬ 
stone, continued to improve the Silver 
Brook camp, making it snng and fit for the 
cold weather. In their leisure time they ex¬ 
plored the Kun-ja-mnck country, Blake acting 
as guide and mentor to his three less experi¬ 
enced companions. The region close to Louie’s 
clearing and the cave, however, they forbore to 
trespass, deciding, quite wisely, to go there only 
upon invitation. 


242 


A Knock at the Door 


243 


Mattie, Mrs. Livingstone, and Uncle David 
had been guests at the Silver Brook cabin upon 
two occasions, once for an overnight stay and 
again merely for lunch. They had pronounced 
their visits delightful, and manifested great in¬ 
terest in the furnishing of the camp. Bill had 
gathered boxes of roots, bark, leaves and ber¬ 
ries for medicinal purposes, and took pride in 
exhibiting his knowledge and skill to friends 
who came to the camp. In the two cabins one 
might see smartweed, tied in attractive little 
bunches, and clusters of tansy hanging from 
the beams; sassafras, balsam gum and jelly 
were boxed up in large quantities. The rustic 
furniture gave undeniable proof that Gray and 
Tom had worked hard since settling on the 
Kun-ja-muck. 

The night before the opening of the hunting 
season, the four campers sat before the cheery 
fire. For several days they had heard shots, 
but. by whom fired or at what mark, they had 
not been able to discover. 

Almost in a whisper Blake said, Tomorrow 
yuhdl see deer bein’ pulled down th’ trails, an’ 
fer thirty days they’ll be slaughtered right an’ 
left. We’ve got t’ be careful how we wander 
’round while th’ huntin’ season’s on.” 

suppose that’s why Mattie brought us 
these red caps,” said Gray. 

^‘Did she?” questioned Bill. That’s just 
like her.” 



244 


The Mysteey of Khn-ja-mijck Cave 


‘‘Huh/’ grunted Blake, “them red caps ain’t 
half enough fer some o’ these here city fellers 
that git all excited when they go huntin’.” 

“Be careful what you say about city folk,” 
cautioned G-ray. “ We ’re three to one here. ’ ’ 

“So yuh be,” answered Blake laughingly. 
“Tom an’ Bill have lived so long here in th’ 
hills, I plumb forgot they wa’n’t our own folks. 
Waal, any of us is liable t’ shoot ’fore we think, 
I guess.” 

The night was growing very cold, and Gray 
arose to close the door of the cabin. Returning 
to his seat, he stirred the logs into brighter 
flame and again sat down. 

“Jest watch th’ deer leave th’ valley now 
an’ climb up t’ th’ higher places,” said Blake 
after a time. ‘ ‘ Them poor brutes seem t ’ know 
th’ very day when th’ huntin’ season opens.” 

So busy were they discussing the hunting 
season that they failed to hear the first rapping 
at the door of the cabin. At the second knock¬ 
ing, more vigorous and excited than the first, 
they stopped their conversation sharply; Bill 
jumped from his place and opened the door. 
Blinking in the sudden glare from the fire 
stood a grimy and unkempt individual, at once 
both bedraggled and threatening in appear¬ 
ance. He did not offer to step inside and Bill 
did not invite him in. 

Blake walked to the door with an angry light 
in his eyes, and stood beside the boy in silence. 



A Knock at the Dook 


245 


Gray had never seen the newcomer before and 
wondered who this evil looking person conld 
be. His hair was long and tangled, and his 
thin, sinister face was covered with a scraggy 
beard. A feverish light shone from his deep- 
set eyes, and his shoulders drooped abjectly. 
In front of him rested his gun, the butt on the 
groimd and the end of the barrel pointing 
towards his body. Presently, when his eyes 
had become accustomed to the light, he re¬ 
moved his battered hat and made as if to speak. 
No sound came from between the stained and 
yellow teeth; and Blake addressed the other 
first. 

^‘So, it’s you, is it?” he said, not mentioning 
the man’s name. 

‘‘Yep, it be,” the little man answered in a 
deep growling bass that was incongruous with 
his size. “Thought I’d call an’ see yuh!” 

“Wonder yuh didn’t call when we was 
away,” snapped Blake, his hostility perfectly 
evident. 

“That’s th’ way yuh all talk,” whined the 
visitor, drawing himself together as if to shrink 
within himself. “I don’t mean no harm, an’ I 
ain’t come t’ aske yuh no favors, neither. I 
ain’t come in, an’ I reckon yuh c’n fergive me 
fer knockin’ on yer door.” 

Hat in hand, he turned slowly away. Gray 
suddenly stepped to Blake’s side and whis¬ 
pered “Who is he?” 



246 


The Mystery of Khh-ja-mhce: Gave 


‘^Old Abe Smitb!’’ muttered Blake. 

‘‘Let’s not turn Mm away,” said Gray. 
‘ ‘ Maybe be’s hungry. ’ ’ 

“Waal,” said Blake dubiously, “I dunno. 
He’s a bad lot—^yub don’t know him same’s 
I do.” 

“Nevertheless, Louie told us there was hope 
even for old Abe. Let’s try it and see.” 

“Why not feed him and wait ’til Louie comes 
—^then see what he says?” suggested Tom. 

“All right,” said Blake, a bit grudgingly. 

Abe had disappeared in the darkness, but the 
cabin door was still open. Blake went forth 
into the night, and those in the cabin could hear 
his shouts of “Oh, Abe!” echoing down the 
valley. In a moment, from far down the Kun- 
ja-muck, near the rapids, came the answer. 

“I’m goin’. Old Abe ain’t goin’ t’ hurt none 
of yuh!” 

“Here, we want t’ see yuh—come back!” 
shouted Blake again. 

There was no reply this time, but those lis¬ 
tening could hear the swish of the swift water 
against the canoe, and knew that it was com¬ 
ing nearer. 

Gray and Tom ran to the shore and helped 
Abe pull up on the pebbles. 

“What’d yuh say yuh wanted?” inquired 
Abe, huddling down inside his threadbare 
mackinaw. 

“I said we wanted yuh t’ come in an’ stay 



A Knock at the Book 


247 


with us/’ replied Blake, his tone considerably 
more friendly than it had been when Abe stood 
before the door. Blake knew that his three 
companions desired to be kind to Abe; and he 
himself only mistrusted the visitor because of 
past experience with him. 

Louie 11 soon come from West Canada 
Lake, and hell be glad to see you,” broke in 
BiU. 

^ ‘ Me! ’ ’ exclaimed Abe, incredulously. ‘ ‘ Me! 
Stay here with youl I might steal somethin’.” 
He laughed a guttural laugh, full of a tragic 
sarcasm. 

^‘Louie’s your friend, Abe,” said Gray. 
^^Come in, we won’t turn you away.” 

Abe followed haltingly as the others went 
toward the cabin. Reaching the doorway. Gray 
and Blake stood aside to let him pass. He 
stopped, glanced uncertainly at them, as if ex¬ 
pecting to be driven away at the last minute, 
and then passed inside. Without a word they 
indicated a seat before the fire, which Abe ac¬ 
cepted. Under the infiuence of the warm blaze 
and the sympathetic silence of the other four 
persons, Abe seemed to lose a little of his air 
of abjectness. He looked searchingly at one 
after another, and found in their faces no rea¬ 
son for fear. Presently, feeling that he owed 
them some explanation of his appearance, he 
began to tell his story. 

^‘Fer years,” he commenced, got no 



248 


The Mystery of Khh-ja-mhck Cave 


frien\ Everybody call me thief, outlaw, bad 
man—so what’s th’ use'F Yuh’ll be jest what 
they say yuh be anyways. Then Louie come 
’long one time, an’ he says t’ me, ‘Abe, you 
be my brother an’ I be yourn. My camp’s 
allers open, an’ what I got t’ eat you c’n eat 
too.’ Ai n ’t anybody ever told me that b’fore.’’ 

Abe became silent again. “Louie’s changed 
an awful lot,” he said presently. “I knocked 
at th’ door t’night because Louie says t’ me, 
‘Abe, you find ’em an’ let me know!’ ” 

“What’s that yuh say 1” ejaculated Blake in 
surprise. 

“Louie sent you!” exclaimed Gray. 

“Yep,” said Abe, rubbing his stubby beard 
refiectively. ‘ ‘ I been helpin ’ Louie f er a couple 
o’ days. He come back from Canada Lake, an’ 
I helped him with packs an’ deer an’ some 
other things. Big man—lives up t’ th’ cave 
—is goin’ t’ come some other day, but not 
with us.” 

As Gray and Blake looked at each other in 
amazement, Abe cast a furtive look toward the 
door as if preparing for a hasty exit. He 
seemed to think he had said too much. 

“When did you reach Louie’s camp ‘f” asked 
Gray, reassuringly. 

“T’day noon,” replied Abe. 

“When did you see Louie last, Abe?” in¬ 
terrupted Bill, who was obviously more inter- 



A Knock at the Door 


249 


* ested in the old Frenchman than in his 
companions. 

‘ ‘ Noon, ’ ’ was Abe’s answer. ‘ ‘ We had some¬ 
thin ’ t’ eat, an’ then Louie says, ‘Go down an’ 
find ’em an’ tell ’em I’m here, an’ I’ll be down 
in a couple o’ days.’ ” 

“Where did you get supper?” asked Gray. 

“Didn’t have none—jest kep’ on huntin’ fer 
yuh ’til I seen yer light.” 

“Waal,” said Blake, “I’m glad we called 
yuh back. Guess we better make yuh some 
coffee an’ fry some ham an’ eggs.” 

Blake had lost all his hostility toward Abe 
since learning that he had been sent by Louie, 
and felt rather ashamed at his first outburst 
of resentment against the visitor. He now 
determined to make amends, knowing that 
Louie would not be deceived in Abe. 

“Don’t bother ’bout me,” said Abe gruffly. 
“Guess I c’n stand it ’til mornin’.” 

“Ko yuh don’t,’’ asserted Blake firmly. “Sit 
right whar yuh l3e, an’ we’ll all hustle on th’ 
grub.” 

As they bustled about the cabin preparing 
supper for Abe, he saw that the distrust with 
which they had first received him was gone 
from their faces. After supper Blake offered 
to play barber, and old Abe knew himself in 
the hands of friends. His hair was trimmed 
and washed, and Blake shaved him. Bill helped 



250 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mijck: Cave 


him off with his boots, which he wore without 
socks. His heels were blistered and his back 
sore from the heavy packs which he had been 
carrying. 

Louie an’ me come over th’ Military Road,” 
he explained. ^‘We come ’cross Injun Lake 
road up whar Perkins’ Camp used t’ be ’fore 
th’ state tore it down. Struck ont’ th’ trail past 
th’ ol’ Injun clearin’ an’ follered it up t’ Dug 
Lakes, past Owl Pond. Thought I’d drop out 
a couple o’ times, ’count o’ my back an’ heels 
hurtin’ so, but I couldn’t tell Louie. Then 
when he says t’ find yuh, first I kind o’ says t’ 
myself H can’t.’ Then I says, ^Waal, I may’s 
well try it.’ 

Blake looked at him quickly, and Abe met 
his look for the first time without flinching. 

^H’m sorry I didn’t ask yuh in in th’ first 
place,” said Blake frankly. 

^^Waal,” conceded the grotesque visitor, 
ain’t blamin’ yuh none. Yuh used t’ know me. 
Them days was bad. Everybody called me a 
thief—an’ I was one. I didn’t know no better. 
Nobody ever teached me no different.” 

Very soon Abe crawled into a bunk, a great 
deal warmer and softer than any he had been 
in for a long time, and was asleep in a moment. 

Think of it,” said Tom to Bill, ‘^Louie’s 
at his camp only four miles from here, and 
sends us word that he’ll soon be down!” 

^^That is to say,” broke in Gray, a bit grimly, 



A Knock at the Door 


251 


‘‘he wants to see us—and will come down here 
rather than have us go to his camp.” 

Blake laughed at the humor of the situation. 
“Don’t yuh notice how careful he is t’ find out 
whar we’re located b’fore th’ strangers come 
down t’ th’ cave?” 

“I thought of that,” admitted Gray, “but I 
think he’ll be satisfied, especially when he sees 
or knows where our camp is placed. They’ll 
have right of way over both trails, you know.” 

“Huh!” grunted Blake, “he might think 
that from this here central location we c’n keep 
a watch on both trails.” 

“We could easily do it,” said Gray. “We 
must make it clear to Abe that we chose this 
spot away from the trails so as not to interfere 
with the hunters, and so that they wouldn’t 
disturb us. We needn’t give any other reasons. 
The ‘Big Man’ and the ‘queen’ will probably 
follow after Louie, perhaps leaving a day or 
two later, and will remain at Louie’s camp up 
here on the Kun-ja-muck until he puts things 
to rights at the cave and clears the trail for 
their return.” 

“Abe called him the ‘Big Man’,” mused 
Blake thoughtfully. 

“I wonder if he meant big physically or 
otherwise?” queried Gray. “If they brought 
the deer and the pets through with them it 
meant some pretty heavy work.” 

“Waal, they reached Louie’s camp th’ day 



252 


The Mysteey of Kijh-ja-mtjce: Cave 


b’fore th’ huntin’ season opened. They 
wouldn’t take a chance on bringin’ them deer 
over a day later.” 

What do you think Louie will do with them 
during the hunting season—I mean the deer?” 
asked Bill eagerly. 

^^They say he’s got a reg’lar stockade con¬ 
nected t’ th’ back o’ his camp,” explained 
Blake. ‘^That’s whar he keeps his pets when 
thar’s any danger.” 

‘^That’s a splendid idea,” said Gray in ad¬ 
miration of Louie’s ingenuity. 

^‘Well, that part of it might be all right,” 
said Bill, ‘^but it wouldn’t be safe for Louie 
to leave the place during the hunting season, 
would it?” 

‘^City folks wouldn’t disturb ’em, but some 
o’ these here old hunters would. Them fellers 
say that Louie’s got no right t’ claim ’em, an’ 
th’ law says nobody c’n enclose ’em.” 

Louie doesn’t mean to break the law,” ob¬ 
jected Tom rather heatedly. ‘^He’s just pro¬ 
tecting those tame animals through the 
season.” 

That’s all right,” said Blake, ^‘but it don’t 
change th’ law, or th’ feelin’s o’ Sam an’ 
Sandy, with Mike an’ his gang behind ’em.” 

‘ ‘ I should think, ’ ’ reflected Gray, ^ ‘ that Mike 
and his gang would try to keep Louie feeling 
friendly toward them.” 

‘‘They have,” rejoined Blake, “but I’m 



A Knock at the Door 


253 


afraid they^re beginnin’ t’ think their time’s 
up ’s far ’s he’s concerned, ’specially since 
Louie didn’t take th’ bottle o’ whiskey Mike 
sent him. I wouldn’t be s’prised ’f they 
layed fer Louie when he goes t’ town this 
winter. Mike knows he’s losin’ his grip— 
maybe he knows it’s gone already—an’ ’f he 
c’n git Louie t’ drinkin’ agin this winter he’ll 
make a pile o’ money off’n him. It’s goin’ t’ 
be a heavy season fer furs. It’s a hard thing t’ 
tell—^when that gang gits anythin’ on yuh—” 

Blake looked uneasily toward the bimk 
where old Abe Smith lay, then shook his head 
in perplexity. That’s a funny thing,” he 
commented. ‘ ‘ Abe was one o ’ Mike’s best bets, 
an’ I allers thought he guarded th’ rum trail— 
him an’ ol’ Theodore.” 

Blake glanced again at the bunk, and Gray 
followed his eyes. A faint smile played about 
old Abe’s lips as he slept. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

LOUIE’S CAMP ON THE KUN-JA-MUCK 

I sought for Peace, but could not find: 

I sought it in the city, 

But they were of another mind— 

The more’s the pity. 

I sought for Peace of country swain, 

But yet I could not findj 
So I, returning home again, 

Left Peace behind. 

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? said I: 

Methought a voice was given, 

“Peace dwelt not here, long since did fly 
To God in heaven.” 

Thought I, this echo is but vain. 

To folly ’tis of kinj 
Anon, I heard it tell me plain, 

’Twas killed by sin. 

Then I believed the former voice. 

And rested well content; 

Lay down and slept, rose, did rejoice. 

And then to heaven went. 

Then I enquired for Peace, and found it true— 

An heavenly plant it was, and sweetly grew. 

T he weeks passed quickly at the Silver 
Brook camp; hunters had come their way, 
and friends from Orendaga had made fre¬ 
quent visits to the cabin. Never, however, had 
they trespassed upon Louie. Tom and Bill 
watched eagerly for the trapper’s promised 
visit, but the others made every effort to be 
unconcerned as to the real purpose of their 
stay. Louie had said he would come to them, 

254 


Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


255 


and, although he had delayed far longer than 
they expected, they were determined to bide 
their time, knowing that any untoward ad¬ 
vances on their part could but result in failure. 

The hunting season had ended and the sound 
of the rifle was stilled. Winter was upon them 
with all its bleakness. 

Tom Livingstone, who stood one afternoon 
in the doorway of his cabin, looking out 
towards the Kun-ja-muck, startled his com¬ 
panions with a sudden shout; “There goes a 
bear!” 

The others rushed to the door in time to see 
their odd visitor lumbering down the trail. As 
he disappeared from sight Blake saw some¬ 
thing which caused him a low exclamation of 
surprise. Pointing toward Lonely Brook, he 
indicated flve deer which stood close together, 
looking at the camp as though holding a coun¬ 
cil to question the right of the squatters. 

“I’ve seen them deer b’fore,” commented 
Blake in a whisper. 

“Quiet!” cautioned Gray. “We may see 
some one passing!” 

“Hope Louie’s near,” said Bill to Tom. 

“Maybe, but you keep quiet anyway,” re¬ 
plied the elder, vexed at his brother’s boyish 
eagerness. 

With a sudden movement the deer disap¬ 
peared, leaving the place in silence, save for 
the wind sighing through the firs. 



256 


The Mysteky of Ktjh-ja-mijce: Cave 


‘^Strange!’’ mused Blake, and led the way 
into the cabin again. 

^^Did you see anything*?” asked Tom anx¬ 
iously, but in a subdued tone, when they en¬ 
tered the cabin. 

^^Not a hair o’ nothin’,” replied Blake. 

‘‘You didn’t?” broke in Bill incredulously, 
as though he questioned either Blake’s veracity 
or powers of observation. 

“I don’t believe,” said Blake slowly, “that 
Louie was thar.” 

“Neither do I,” vouchsafed Gray. 

“Well, the bear and deer weren’t travelling 
alone, were they?” asked Bill. 

“Don’t get excited,” remonstrated Gray. 
“ ‘The Mystery’ was at our very door, appar¬ 
ently, even within speaking distance, but went 
on somewhere else.” 

“Them were Louie’s deer fer sure,” affirmed 
Blake. “Tuh don’t s’pose he’s movin’ ’em 
back t’ th’ Canada Lake cabin?” 

“It doesn’t seem possible,” rejoined Gray, 
“yet perhaps—” 

“Perhaps what?” broke in Blake. 

“Perhaps that explains Louie’s invitation. 
The strangers will stay over in the other cabin, 
while Louie entertains us here. We were very 
cleverly removed from the scene of action, I 
guess. With them in the Canada Lake cabin, 
and us in the Kun-ja-muck region, Louie can 
be sure that our trails don’t cross.” 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muok 


257 


Blake’s jaw dropped in consternation. 
‘^Mebbe,” be said. ‘‘Mebbe.” 

This interpretation of the movements of 
Louie ’s pets was accepted; and low spirits pre¬ 
vailed in the Silver Brook cabin that evening. 

‘‘I wish Louie’d come,” sighed Bill, ^‘like 
he said he would. Hanging around here isn’t 
much fun—” 

guess you’re having a good timel” re¬ 
buked his brother. ‘‘You sure ought to be 
glad you’re here. Think how you’d feel if you 
weren’t invited!” 

Blake, who hated to see the boys down¬ 
hearted, took his violin from the shelf, and, 
for the first time in a week, began to play. 
He was in a thoughtful mood and there seemed 
to be unusual music in his bow; he played until 
a late hour, when the fire began to turn to glow¬ 
ing embers. When the boys had gone to bed. 
Gray threw on another log and sat talking. 
Never before had their hopes been at so low an 
ebb. Louie had promised to visit them long 
ago; but now he had delayed for many weeks. 
Perhaps old Abe had been a spy for the mys¬ 
terious strangers—^the “governor” and the 
“queen.” And then, perhaps they had been 
observing the Silver Brook camp that very 
afternoon when the deer appeared. 

“It’s not the first time they’ve had their 
eagle eyes on us!” said Gray. 



258 


The Mystery of Kijn-ja-muck: Cave 


Jest what I was thinkinV’ replied Blake. 
‘‘All th’ time we were on th’ island o’ Peaceful 
Haven they had us in sight. An’ th’ day we 
left th’ island fer Brook Trout Lake, yuh 
r’member how they sat in th’ King’s Chair, 
lookin’ at us all th’ time.” 

“I certainly do remember,” said Cray em¬ 
phatically. “I’m convinced that they ’re inter¬ 
ested in us, or at least are kindly disposed 
toward us. If they ’re not, Louie wouldn’t have 
shown us so much attention or talked so freely. 
He must be the reflection of their feelings 
toward us.” 

“Sure, that must be true,” replied the other, 
“but why would they come within a stone’s 
throw o’ th’ camp an’ then disappear?” 

“That’s a mystery—^but why have they been 
in these wilds for over three years, steadily 
shunning every living soul except Louie?” 

“I guess th’ myst’ry o’ th’ cave is allers 
goin’ t’ be a myst’ry,” sighed Blake. 

“Cheer up, old man,” encouraged Cray. 
“We’ll solve it if there is a solution, and I 
know there is. It takes time. ’ ’ 

It was a cold night; the wind howled and 
moaned in the pines about the cabin, and out 
in the hills it made a great soughing echo as 
it swept along with irresistible force. There 
had been a light snowfall late that afternoon, 
and now the moon was brilliant with a cold 
radiance. The stars sparkled like diamonds in 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


259 


the sky; the Milky Way was as an arch of snow 
built to truss the dome of the heavens. The 
cabin windows were covered with a heavy frost, 
and Gray had to be content with looking 
through a small corner of a pane as he glanced 
out on the night before slipping into his bunk. 

It was Blake’s turn to build the morning 
fire and start the breakfast. When the sun 
began to brighten the ice-covered window 
panes he crawled from his bunk, reaching for 
his clothes and boots. 

As he looked toward the end of the room he 
uttered an exclamation of wonderment, rubbed 
his eyes, and looked again. On the back of a 
chair near the door sat Mgger, and on the seat 
of the same chair lay Friskey, curled up on 
Tom’s sweater. Without making any more 
noise than necessary, Blake dressed and then 
walked slowly to the pets. Louie was sleeping 
soundly on a bench near the fireplace, his old 
coonskin coat thrown over himself and a bag 
filled with balsam for a pillow. 

Blake was more than delighted. This seemed 
to vindicate Louie and re-establish his faith 
in the old French trapper. Deciding not to 
disturb either Louie or the other three camp¬ 
ers, Blake quickly built the fire. Only Mgger 
stirred during this operation; taking his head 
from under his wing, the crow stretched first 
his left wing and leg, then the right. He turned 
an inquiring eye upon Louie, noted that his 



260 


The Mysteky of Ktin-ja-mhck Cave 


master was still sleeping, and replaced Ms head 
under his wing as though ^^forty winkswere 
to him, as to so many human beings, the thing 
for which the early morning is made. Priskey 
remained rolled up in a little roimd ball, show¬ 
ing his appreciation of the excellent bed which 
fortune had provided. The chill of the cabin 
was soon dissipated by a warm fire, and Blake 
continued his preparations for breakfast with 
less caution. 

Tom was the first of the others to rouse him¬ 
self. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and forehead, 
sniffed, and smiled affectionately at Blake. 
‘‘By all the loves of Pharaoh!’’ he said, using 
an exclamation of Grray’s which the latter re¬ 
served for all extraordinary occasions. “Smell 
that coffee! And ham and potatoes! ’ ’ Blake, 
who was leaning over the stove stirring the 
oatmeal, smiled back at him knowingly. 

‘ ‘ Why didn’t you call me ^ ’ ’ asked Tom. Still 
Blake kept silent, only smiling more broadly. 
Tom reached down for his sweater, and touched 
Priskey; the squirrel bounded from the chair, 
wildly chattering, while Tom leaped from his 
bunk, drawing back his hand as though it had 
been bitten. Then he saw the pets, and was 
dumb with amazement. Blake continued to 
stir the cereal, his smile widening into a grin. 

“By all the loves of Pharaoh!” said Tom 
for the second time. ‘ ‘ Louie’s here! He must 
be! There’s the crow and squirrel!” The 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


261 


boy had failed to notice Louie’s slumbering 
form stretched out on the bench. 

Gray and Bill were aroused by Tom’s ex¬ 
clamation, and sat up wondering at all the ex¬ 
citement. Blake pointed toward Louie, who 
had not moved; Tom crawled from his blankets 
and tiptoed to the bundle of coonskin which 
Blake had dared to intimate was their beloved 
Louie. Even Blake himself had not seen the 
trapper’s face, but he knew the coat; that, with 
the pets was sufficient proof of their guest’s 
identity. Tom, however, was not so easily 
satisfied. Reaching the side of the sleeping 
form, he hesitated, then mustered sufficient 
courage to pull down the covering until the 
man’s face was fully exposed to view. Then 
he smiled with delight. Louie opened his eyes 
slowly and, seeing the boy, they filled with 
tenderness. 

^‘Ma frien’ Tom!” he exclaimed. ^^W’y, you 
are boy no more!” 

And, pushing the coonskin coat away, he sat 
up on the bench. 

‘^Come on. Bill!” cried Tom. ^‘Here’s 
Louie! Ah, we’ve got you this time, Louie! 
You used to run away from us, but now you’re 
cornered!” 

For the next few minutes the cabin rang 
with the merriment of the boys and Louie, 
while Gray and Blake, after greeting the old 
Frenchman, watched the fun. Tom and Bill 



262 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-mijck Cave 


scolded the trapper for not awakening them 
when he came in, so that a better bed could 
have been made for him, and chided him for 
not coming sooner. Mgger flew to Louie ^s head 
and Friskey perched on his shoulders, much 
to the amusement of all. 

‘ ^ I not able for come wen I want, ’ ’ said Louie 
Anally. ’ave to watch ze deer—smooch hon- 
ters come, an’ I could not let heem out unteel 
yesterday.” 

“We saw them,” blurted Bill, while Tom 
looked at his younger brother in sublime 
disgust. 

“Oui, I know,” replied Louie, glancing at 
Bill and overlooking Tom’s expression en¬ 
tirely. “Mais you ’ave not ask heem in.” 

“We didn’t see anybody to ask!” exclaimed 
Tom. 

“I Imow,” smiled Louie. “I an’ ma frien’, 
we desire for rest wan moment, an’ eet ees 
mooch safer here off ze trail. I ’ave help heem 
on ze Kun-ja-muck, an’ now I am come back 
here for mak you leetle veesit.” 

With that, Louie suggested that they break¬ 
fast. 

It was a joyous day for everyone at the Sil¬ 
ver Brook camp; even Nigger and Friskey 
seemed to be unusually lively. Louie was as 
much, if not more, delighted to see the Living¬ 
stone boys as they were to see him, and he 
enjoyed their youthful good humor immensely. 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


263 


They showed him their rustic furniture and the 
bird boxes they had built. He examined their 
handiwork carefully, affectionately, and 
praised it to the skies. 

^‘You are artiste, lak ze fat’er!” he would 
exclaim over and over again. 

In the evening, when the shrill north wind 
howled through the valley with a long drawn, 
eerie cry, the campers and their guest settled 
around the fire, sitting on the rustic lounge 
and the bearskin rug before the hearth. Louie 
regaled them with stories of Canada and fierce 
tales of the forest. He made no reference to 
the strangers in his keeping, but told of his 
boyhood, of heroic river people, of voyageurs 
in the great woods. Later, when he had ceased 
his stories, his eye fell upon Blake’s violin. 

‘‘Ah, ma frien’, play for me!” he pleaded, 
turning to Blake. 

“But what’ll I play?” queried the one ad¬ 
dressed, a little taken aback. 

“Ah, eet ees not matter—anyt’ing, so you 
play. La musique of violin, ma frien’, eet ees 
si belle, si sweet!” 

As Blake hesitated, wondering what would 
please the old trapper, Louie continued his 
pleading. 

“Eet mak ze music so I could cry, sometam. 
I ’ave not hear heem for many year, long tarn 
ago—” 

Blake commenced to draw the bow across 



264 


The Mystery of Kiih-ja-muce: Cave 


the strings; and as he played a hush fell upon 
the room and its occupants. The old trapper 
sat quiet as some shy, timid child of the forest 
while Blake played song after song. The 
woodsman put his whole soul into the tones of 
the instrument; for it was a supreme thing in 
his life, his easiest means of self-expression. 
When he had finished, and sat down again on 
the lounge, Louie suddenly recalled himself 
from the reverie into which he had fallen and 
asked for more. 

So Blake stole softly into the opening bars 
of the Bach-Gounod prayer, the Ave Maria. 
Louie sat as one entranced; and Gray was pro¬ 
foundly moved. Blake played the exquisite 
melody with a tender beauty and feeling. The 
last note died away, and only the snapping of 
the fire could be heard. At last, after several 
long minutes, Louie spoke softly. 

’ave hear ze Ave Maria long tarn ago— 
in church San’ Michel—au Canada—^long tarn 
ago—” 

The next afternoon found them all comfor¬ 
tably settled in Louie’s spacious log camp far¬ 
ther up the Kun-ja-muck, for he had insisted 
that they move up there and visit him until 
after Christmas; he had helped them pack their 
baskets at the Silver Brook cabin early that 
morning, and, with Blake,, had returned later 
in the day with his sledge to bring up what 
supplies they could not carry. Louie’s cabin 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


265 


was much larger and more substantially built 
than their own, and had, with age, grown in 
dignity. Nothing about it had the appearance 
of being new. It was like an old homestead 
as compared with a new estate. There were 
two big windows at either end of the living 
room; at one side was a huge stone fireplace and 
at the other a built-in sideboard of curly maple, 
trimmed with yellow birch. The furniture was 
all hand-made, rough but comfortable, and 
withal finished with the deft touches of a mas¬ 
ter craftsman. 

When they were settled, Louie began to 
measure out flour and other things at his 
kitchen table. 

‘‘What are you going to make, Louie?” 
asked Tom. 

“I am goin’ mak ze good oV doughnut,” he 
chuckled. 

“Teach us, will you, Louie?” begged Bill. 
“You must be a great cook!” There was ad¬ 
miration in the boy’s voice, and it pleased the 
old trapper to receive such a compliment from 
the boys whom he loved in his peculiar way. 

“Sapre!—Eef you want!” he exclaimed. 
“Now, do lak I am tol’ you. Tak two egg an’ 
put heem in deesh wit’ two cup of ze w’ite 
sugar you ’ave breeng. Now tak spoon an’ 
beat heem—” He continued with his direc¬ 
tions until the dough was ready. 

Gray and Blake were as interested as the 



266 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mugk Cave 


boys in seeing bow the doughnuts would turn 
out. Tom cut them into shape and Bill dropped 
them into the kettle of hot grease, while Louie 
himself turned them over with a freshly whit¬ 
tled stick, his eyes gleaming with pleasure and 
pride. The old Frenchman was as happy as 
a child. 

^^Look at ’em swell!” cried Bill,, as Gray ac¬ 
cepted the first one from the end of Louie’s 
stick, divided it with Blake, and pronounced 
it fit for royalty. 

^‘What’s that scratching on the door*?” sud¬ 
denly asked Gray, poising another doughnut 
half-way to his mouth. 

‘‘1 hear heem,” said Louie. ’ave know 
t’ey would come wen t’ey smell ze smoke from 
cheeroney. ’ ’ 

‘^What is itV’ demanded Tom. 

^^Open ze door, an’ you see,” replied Louie, 
laughingly. 

Tom did so—^but very cautiously. He was 
not prepared, however, for the avalanche of 
animals which rushed through the doorway— 
two otter, a bear and a skunk. Letting go of 
the door, the boy leaped for the table top; and 
in another moment Bill landed beside him. 
Gray and Blake, although expecting something 
of the sort, were momentarily startled out of 
their usual composure; the former established 
himself in a corner, ready to swing a chair for 
self-protection, while Blake laid hold on an 



Louie’s Camp on the Kun-ja-muck 


267 


iron poker. Louie doubled with laughter at 
the performance, and having caught his breath 
sufficiently to speak, he called his pets to his 
side. 

‘^Heck t’ere, come now, heck t’ere!” 

The animals seemed to understand him per¬ 
fectly, for they scampered to him immediately. 
The bear growled and bared his teeth, while 
the skunk straddled one of Louie’s feet and 
stood on his hind legs, trying to reach his mas¬ 
ter’s knee. Cautiously Louie gave each one a 
doughnut. The otter and bear ate with such 
extraordinary rapidity, however, that Louie 
called again. 

^‘Heck, heck, not so fas’! Wan more ees all 
wat you get. Heck now, heck, heck!” 

‘Hs that the Kitty Cobble bear*?” queried 
Blake. 

‘‘Oui, eet ees heem,” answered Louie. “I 
’ave spoil heem, for he ees ze baby, an’ I feel ze 
sorrow for hees mot’er.” 

Louie opened the door which led into the 
corral, and with a commanding gesture ordered 
them all to go. Instead of obeying they went 
in the opposite direction, Louie remaining at 
the open doorway. ^‘Heck now, come, heck!” 
he said quietly, but as his pets continued to dis¬ 
obey, the old trapper’s voice rose in a 
crescendo. Stamping his foot, he called again: 
‘‘Heck now, come, heck!” The skunk yielded 
first, then the otter, but the bear. Baby, had no 



268 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-muce: Gave 


intention of heeding his master’s call. ‘‘Come 
now, Baby, heck, heck!” called Louie. The 
bear turned his head slightly, showing his 
teeth, and growled fiercely. Louie looked at 
him for a moment. ^‘You talk lak t’at, eh? 
Moi, I see who ees ze boss!” He walked to the 
stove and took the iron poker from Blake’s 
hand. Brandishing the weapon, Louie shouted: 
‘‘Sapristi! Va! Queeck!” Baby needed no 
further persuasion, but went out into the cor¬ 
ral, like a petulant child. 

‘‘Come,” said Louie to the boys. “I show 
you w’ere t’ey leeve. T’at ees ze house for 
Baby, la bas; Weenkie an’ Bleenkie chez la,”' 
pointing to another well-built den, “an t’at 
leetle wan b’long for Scenty. Ze animal, t’ey 
come an go wen t’ey lak. Each wan, he ’ave 
hees secret way for come in an’ go out. I show 
you some day. Baby, he go way down ze Kun- 
ja-muck for see hees frien’ ever’ day, but he 
arrive back wen he teenk Louie come home. 
He was wan tarn ze baby for Louie, mais not 
now—^he ees beeg bear, an’ want hees own way 
ver’ mooch. He ’ave ze good breengin’ up, 
mais I teenk he forget sometam.” 

“Lots of us are like that bear,” observed 
Gray, and turned back into the cabin. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

AN ADIRONDACK CHRISTMAS 


Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night! 

Christmas in lands of the fir tree and pine; 

Christmas in lands of the palm tree and vine; 

Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white; 
Christmas where corn fields lie sunny and bright; 

Christmas where children are hopeful and gay; 

Christmas where old men are patient and gray; 

Christmas where peace, like a dove in his flight, 

Broods o’er brave men in the thick of the fight; 

Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night! 

For the Christ-child who comes is the master of all. 

No palace too great and no cottage too small. 

—Phillips Brooks. 

I T was two evenings before Christmas when 
Louie outlined his plans for that great day. 
^‘To-morrow/’ he began, ^^we mak ze 
Chrees’mas deener an’ mak ready for ze Sant’ 
Claus.” He looked at the boys and smiled 
fondly. 

^H’m afraid,” said Gray ^Hhat he won’t 
come way up here. He’ll get lost or stuck in 
the snow.” 

^^He ’ave come ever’ weenter for free year,” 
maintained Louie, and fell into a deep study. 
Presently he spoke again. ’ave nevaire 
forget ze night, free year ago, wen he come 
knock on ze door. I ’ave forget ze Chrees’mas 
for mooch year before fat tarn, an’ I was ’lone 
an’ was not ver’ frien’ly. He come knock— 

269 


270 


The Mystery of Khh-ja-muck Cave 


ze canle eet was burn jus^ leetle, an’ I open ze 
door an’ stan’ lookin’ at beem an’ ze leetle 
Sant’ Claus. I say not’ing. I ’ave not know 
eet ees Cbrees’mas, an’ I ’ave not care mooch 
at all. 01’ Sant’ he stan’ outside in snow an’ 
col’ wit’ door open an’ me inside—^he say, ‘We 
’ave come, M’sieu Louie, for breeng you ze 
merry Chrees’mas.’ An’ t’en I see ze leetle 
Sant’ peekin’ ’roun’ ol’ Sant’. She ’ave ze 
beeg blue eye, shine in ze dark lak snowflake 
in sun. Sapre! Wen I ’ave not ask heem in, 
Sant’ Claus he say: ‘Well Louie, I teenk we 
mus’ come down cheminee, for you no let us 
in by ze door.’ Ah, M’sieu, I was ze blaggar 
trapper in t’at tarn. I ’ave ze hate for ze voy- 
ageur, an’ I lak eet better for be all ’lone— 
but ze eye for leetle Sant’ hoi’ me fas’, an’ I 
say: ‘I no want ze merry Chrees’mas, mais I 
teenk eet ees good for you come in out of ze 
col’.’ ” Louie’s eyes took on a dreamy look of 
reflection. “You know, ma frien’, eet was ze 
flrs’ tarn I ’ave ever see ze queen an’ ze Sant’ 
Claus t’at I ’ave call ze gouverneur. T’ey are 
wan ver’ flne people, I am tol’ you.” 

It was the flrst time Louie had mentioned 
the queen and the governor since the summer 
days when Gray and Blake visited with him 
in the West Canada Lake region. 

“You know heem, ver’ queeck tarn, I teenk,” 
added the trapper. “T’ey ’ave tol’ eet to me 
for me to tell you. Mais, not now.” 



An Adirondack Christmas 


271 


He turned his back to his guests and spread 
his hands in the glow of the fire, his head tilted 
slightly to one side as if listening to the winds 
howling down the great chimney or for foot¬ 
steps in the snow. 

Suddenly he wheeled about. ‘ ^ An ’ now I tol’ 
you wat,’’ he smiled, want for you read me 
ze Chrees’mas story. Ze queen, she read heem 
to me many tarn, an’ she ’ave toP me wat eet 
ees mean. She ’ave show me wat belle story eet 
ees—^wen ze leetle Chris’ he ees born long tarn’ 
ago an’ angel seeng in stars. I lak for you read 
heem to me wan tarn encore. ’ ’ 

The old trapper went to a cupboard and drew 
forth a Bible. 

‘‘Ze queen, she ’ave geeve heem to me long 
tarn ago, an’ I ’ave read mooch wat he say. 
Mais I cannot read ver’ good.” 

He opened the Bible slowly, taking much 
time in finding the place. When he did find 
it, he handed the book to Blake; and the old 
woodsman read, in a hesitating, searching way, 
the story of the Babe of Bethlehem. During 
the reading Louie stood with his eyes on the 
fire and his hands clasped behind his back. 
When Blake finished, the Frenchman took the 
Bible from him, placed it upon the broad man¬ 
tel, and again spread out his hands to the blaze, 
while a silence of wonder fell upon the little 
group. 

Byron Gray had spent much time in refiec- 



272 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mijce: Gate 


tion while at Louie’s camp those few weeks 
before Christmas. Now, in the stillness that 
pervaded the cabin, he tried to realize the 
change that had come in his life. In the brief 
space of half a year he had grown to know a 
great force driving behind all nature—a source 
of life, a purpose, a majestic destiny for all 
things living, growing, and striving. Byron 
Gray was no longer a cynic; the hours of hiking 
over the trails, the beauty of the magnificent 
sunsets, the glory of dawn from an Adirondack 
mountain top, the stillness of dusk, the mel¬ 
lowness of the fire light—^these things, with 
the sincere companionship of Jack Blake and 
old Louie, had touched the deepest springs of 
his nature. They had aroused in him a man¬ 
hood he did not know was there. Paul Ward, 
too, had been the interpreter of nature and of 
God. The minister was to Gray a man among 
men. 

And then Gray began to wish that the mys¬ 
tery of the Kun-ja-muck Cave would wait for 
its solution until the spring-time. He wanted 
an excuse for staying where he was. Louie 
had promised that soon they would know all 
about it, but Gray wondered if he really wanted 
to know. Enjoying every moment of the old 
Frenchman’s companionship, the city bred 
man had come to feel a deep affection for 
Louie, though at first his faith in him had been 
of the slightest. Gray was now interested in 



An Adirondack Christmas 


273 


solving the mystery only because he wanted to 
know those whose influence had transformed 
Louie from the sullen, drunken recluse to the 
genial guide, the friend of all men, the almost 
mystic prophet of God in nature. 

Louie’s faith was intangible, but withal 
simple and sincere. His pets were his com¬ 
panions—God had made them. The sunrise 
was the smile of the Lord, to him. It was diffi¬ 
cult for Louie to explain these things, but his 
utterly naive conceptions fascinated Gray, who 
had never before supposed that such beliefs 
could be found in a rude and untutored trap¬ 
per. Gray had thus learned what so many of 
culture’s elite are forced to learn at some time 
in their lives—that the deeper insight and in¬ 
spired imagination are inherent in mankind, 
and need not a university training to bring 
them out. Thus Gray became, in a sense, 
Louie’s disciple. 

The Frenchman talked little; for his per¬ 
sonality had that about it which made words 
unnecessary. A deep tenderness spoke from 
his eyes; and in little things—^his considera¬ 
tion of others, his quaint courtesies, his sincere 
generosity—^he impressed those who knew him. 

It was Christmas day at dawn. Bill, irre¬ 
pressible youth, sat up in bed and shouted 
‘‘Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” 

“You ’wake?” said Louie, smiling at him 
through the faint light of early morning. “I 



274 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mtjck Cave 


teenk Scenty know eet ees Ckrees^mas, for he 
’ave scratch on ze door for wan hour at leasM’’ 

Tom opened his eyes, realized that he was 
not the first one awake, and jumped out of bed. 

^‘Sapre! Don’ let heem in, not yet!” called 
Louie, sitting up. 

“I won’t,” laughed Tom. ‘‘I’m going to 
build a fire first, and warm things up before 
you get out.” 

“Ah, you are ze wan good boy, Tom, mon 
gargon,” he said. “Moi, I get ol’—^you are 
young an’ ’ave ze gran’ strengt’. Sh 1 Eet ees 
Scenty again; he ’ave hear ze stove rattle. Eet 
mak heem want for get in more, an’ I teenk 
eet ees Baby, an’ Weenkie an’ Bleenkie out¬ 
side too. T’ey mak ze gran’ rush wen ze door 
ees open!” 

Louie, calling to Cray and Blake, got up 
from his blankets when the fire was briskly 
burning in the stove. 

“Get wan ’alf douzaine doughnut, some 
sugar in pan, an’ four of ze feesh wat we ’ave 
catch yesterday on Owl Pon’. Eet weel be ze 
Chrees’mas gif’ for ze pets. Ah, here ees Nig¬ 
ger an’ Freeskey waitin’ for ze gif’ too!” 

Nigger, with many gestures of leg, wing and 
head, jabbered violently in crow patois. 

“How about the others?” asked Tom of 
Louie. 

“Let heem come,” chuckled Louie, and Tom 
unfastened the door. 



An Adirondack Christmas 


275 


With a bang against the door the pets piled 
into the room, Baby in the lead; Scenty was 
knocked hither and yon in the mad rush of the 
others, the penalty for being the slowest. 

‘‘Heck, heck, come now, heck!’’ commanded 
Louie, trying to secure a little order. “Queet 
eet, Bleenkie 1 ’ ’ Poker in hand, the trapper at 
last quieted his pets, and even Baby subsided 
in a corner of the room. Tom gave the bear 
a sugar and water drink from an empty cat¬ 
sup bottle which was reserved for this very 
purpose. Baby held it in his forepaws and 
sat back on his haunches, raising the bottle high 
as he tried to reach bottom with his long tongue. 
Seeing the doughnuts, he dropped the bottle 
and again stood up before Louie with out¬ 
stretched paw, begging for his share of the 
food. The fish were given to Winkie and 
Blinkie; as each took the fish in their mouths 
they dove for the door. 

‘,‘Let heem out,” said Louie, and the otter 
went back to the corral to enjoy their Christ- 
m.as breakfast. 

Scenty appeared to be satisfied with any¬ 
thing edible, and remained as near to Louie 
as possible, until, with Baby, he was sent back 
to his den. 

Gray had dressed during the visit of the pets, 
and now stood, hands in pockets, looking out 
of the window upon the snow-covered country¬ 
side. There had been a heavy storm in the 



276 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mtjce: Cave 


night, but the weather was now quite clear. 
The sun was dazzling in its brightness on the 
snow; and high drifts made the clearing about 
the cabin a billowy expanse of glittering white¬ 
ness. As Gray’s eye roved over the beauty 
and grandeur of the scene, it rested for a mo¬ 
ment on the path leading from the trail to the 
cabin, and he realized that it had been freshly 
broken out. He called Louie to the window. 

‘‘Ma foi!” exclaimed the old Frenchman in 
dismay. ’ave teenk he come, mais not so 
soon!” 

He went to the door, which opened on a small 
porch at the front of the cabin, as if expecting 
to greet visitors. No one was there. Keen dis¬ 
appointment visible in his face, Louie went out 
onto the porch, with Gray at his heels, and very 
nearly stumbled over a large canvas bag which 
lay at one side of the doorway. 

‘‘Ah, I ’ave not hear heem!” bewailed Louie 
in chagrin. “I know he weel come, for eet ees 
same way ever’ Chrees’mas—^^an’ now I ^ave 
meessheemi” * 

He looked out over the great white expanse 
of loveliness. Icicles hung in a long row along 
the eaves of the building, for it had thawed 
a little the day before. For a few moments 
Louie stood there, with the north wind ruffling 
his hair. Then he turned, threw the bag over 
his shoulder, and went into the cabin. 

“What yuh got thar, Louie?” demanded 



An Adirondack Christmas 


277 


Blake in surprise. Looks me like Santy’d 
been ’round, eh?” 

^‘Eet ees jus’ so, M’sieu Jack,” replied 
Louie, his disappointment at missing the donor 
of the pack somewhat abated by the all too 
evident pleasure on the faces of Tom and Bill. 
They crowded around Louie, clamoring to know 
who had sent the pack and what it contained. 

‘‘We mus’ ’ave ze breakfas’ firs’,” stoutly 
asserted Louie, maintaining his grasp on the 
canvas bag with some difficulty. The boys were 
at length persuaded of the wisdom of Louie’s 
suggestion, and busied themselves with setting 
out the morning meal. 

The dishes had been cleared away after 
breakfast, and Louie had his canvas sack on 
the table, just at the point of untying the cord 
around its throat, when there came footsteps 
on the front porch. Louie stayed his hand and 
ran to the door, an eager light in his eyes. 

^^Must be another Santa Claus,” said G-ray 
to Blake with a humorous chuckle. 

^^Mordieu!” they heard Louie’s voice from 
outside, ^^wat ees eet wat eet ees here I Sapre! 
Sant’ Claus for two tarn thees Chrees’mas!” 
and pushing old Abe Smith before him Louie 
burst through the doorway. 

‘‘Bust me ’f ’tain’t Abe!” contributed Blake 
to the general confusion at the sight of the 
visitor, who bore on his back an enormous pack 
basket, apparently well loaded. 



278 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mhck Cave 


Abe shifted from one foot to the other, 
abashed at the hilarity with which he had been 
greeted. 

Jest come np fr’m th’ village,” he ex¬ 
plained, bring yuh some stuff fr’m Mattie 
an’ t’other folks down thar.” 

Forgotten was the canvas bag filled, as Louie 
rightly supposed, with Christmas gifts from 
the queen and the governor. Louie cleared 
the table, helped Abe to lift down his pack, and 
insisted that he remain as their guest at Christ¬ 
mas dinner. 

^^Dunno ’s I’d oughter,” protested Abe. 
‘^Mattie’s givin’ a big Chris’mas dinner down 
t’ th’ Bearfoot Inn, an’ I’d oughter be thar 
t’ help her git ready. Waal, I guess mebbe 
I c’n stay here, now ’at I come t’ think on it— 
ol’ Theodore’ll be thar t’ do whatever she 
wants. Yuh know Teddy ain’t workin’ fer 
Mike no more—nope, jest ask Louie here how 
it come ’at Teddy’s workin’ fer Mattie ’stead 
o’ Mike Murphy.” 

Gray and Blake had not known quite what 
to make of Abe’s words, and now their eyes 
sought Louie for explanation. The old French¬ 
man said nothing, but the look on his face was 
enough to make the others realize that he had 
done for old Theodore the same thing he had 
done for Abe himself. 

The boys laid hold on the basket, after look¬ 
ing mutely at Abe for permission, and began to 



An Adikondack Cheistmas 


279 


take out its contents. Its depths yielded a sup¬ 
ply of good things—^mince pies, four roasting 
chickens which were stuffed and ready for the 
oven, jars of cranberry sauce, sugar cookies, 
sweet potatoes, and home-made candy done up 
in boxes tied with red and green ribbon. The 
masterpiece, however, was a huge Christmas 
cake, covered with a thick icing in which were 
several old-fashioned candy mottoes such as 
Gray had seen at the minstrel show. ^‘1 love 
you,” ‘‘Meet me when the sun goes down,” 
“The eyes I love are blue,” Gray read from 
among the sentiments expressed. 

“Mattie always laughed about them,” ex¬ 
plained Blake. “I guess she thought she’d 
play a joke on us!” 

Prom the bottom of the basket the boys drew 
forth a package of heavy woolen socks, hand 
knit. They were all exactly alike, save for size, 
and Bill counted out a pair for each person 
present except old Abe, who claimed that he 
had already received his Christmas gifts. At 
the very bottom of the pack were two knitted 
sweaters from Mrs. Livingstone to her boys. 

“Ah, ma frien’,” said Louie when the ex¬ 
citement of discovering the gifts had quieted 
down, “we ’ave forget thees Sant’ Claus!” and 
he lifted the canvas bag to the table. 

Tom and Bill became instantly as tense and 
eager as though they had not yet received a 
gift of any kind. Louie loosed the cord while 



280 


The Mystery oe Kijh-ja-muck Cave 


Gray, Blake and Abe pressed close, looking 
over the trapper’s shoulder. This sack was 
more interesting to them than the other, in 
reality, for had it not come from those whom 
they desired to know more than aught else? 
Louie had not said as much, but who besides 
the queen and the governor would play Santa 
Claus to Louie in this fashion? If Blake’s 
eagerness to know what was in Mattie’s pack 
was intense, no less so was Gray’s concern 
about this sack which Louie was at the moment 
opening. 

In the mouth of the sack was a note, ad¬ 
dressed to Louie Lament. He read it hastily, 
held it in his hand for a moment while he 
seemed to think quickly, and tossed it into the 
fire. 

^^Ze queen an’ ze gouverneur, t’ey sen’ ze 
^Merry Chrees’mas’ to all,” he said laconically, 
and continued to unpack. 

There were scarfs and stockings for Louie, 
and also a heavy knitted sweater. Two elder¬ 
berry pies were marked: ^‘For Louie and his 
guests.” At the bottom of the bag was a large 
box which Louie carefully pulled out. Tearing 
off the lid, he drew forth a beautiful thing and 
placed it on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. 
It was a crucifix, carved in a single piece from 
white ash. It aroused Gray’s admiration, as 
well as that of Blake and the boys. 



An Adirondack Christmas 


281 


‘‘Who could have done that?’^ he exclaimed 
without thinking. 

“Ze gouverneur, he ’ave carve eet/’ said 
Louie simply. “I ’ave show heem how for 
carve long tarn ago, an’ now he ees ver’ good. 
He ’ave tak mooch tarn, maybe all weenter, for 
mak t’at. Ah, M’sieu, eet ees ver’ beauteeful, 
n’est-ce pas?” 

Louie regarded the crucifix in awe for a 
moment, then called to Abe. 

“Come, ma frien’ Abe, eet ees tarn for mak 
ze deener. You an’ Louie weel get ze deener 
ready, an’ we all eat heem ver’ soon. Voila!” 
and with a chirp to Nigger and Priskey he 
commenced to whistle a lively tune, giving Abe 
directions as they were needed. 

The Christmas dinner which Louie prepared 
was a culinary triumph. The old Frenchman 
exercised every art he knew which could make 
either the food or the occasion more enjoyable. 
As. they sat about the table late in the after¬ 
noon—for with Louie’s stories the meal had 
taken the better part of the day—^Louie’s eyes 
filled with the light of reminiscence which Gray 
and Blake had come to recognize as the fore¬ 
runner of some confidence. 

“Eet ees ver’ strange,” began Louie slowly, 
his eyes fixed on the crucifix, “how ze good 
Lord—le bon Dieu—’ave tak care for Louie. 
Firs’, long tarn ago, I teenk he sen’ ol’ man— 
meessionary, ze queen say—^to ma mere au 



282 


The Mystery oe Kun-ja-muok Cave 


Canada, an^ he geeve to her ze Bible. Ma mere, 
she ’ave read thees Bible, an^ she learn how 
eet ees good thng for pray. She pray for me, 
an’ I teenk ze prayer follow me way down 
here, unteel ze gouverneur an’ ze queen come 
lak Sant’ Claus free year ago. 

^^Ze queen an’ ze gouverneur, t’ey ’ave show 
me ze way. Bef ,eet was not for fern I would 
nevaire know wat ze Chrees’mas story in ze 
Bible mean, an’ wat fat cross mean. Ah, ma 
frien’, eet ees more fan two year before I can 
go down on knee in front of ze cross! Mais, 
M’sieu, wen I ’ave lay my seen, all my trouble, 
ever’ting, at ze foot of ze cross—ah, ma frien’, 
I cannot tol’ you how I feel—eet ees ze gran’ 
peace, an’ I ’ave know fat Grod—^le bon Dieu 
—^he weel tak care for ol’ Louie—” 

A shaft from the setting sun, coming through 
the western window of the cabin, fell upon the 
carved crucifix in a golden halo as Louie’s voice 
died away into silence. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 


LOUIE SLIPS OUT IN THE NIGHT 

Why be afraid of death as though your life were breath? 
Death but anoints your eyes with clay. O glad surprise! 

Why should you be forlorn? Death only husks the corn. 
Why should you fear to meet the thresher of the wheat? 

Is sleep a thing to dread? Yet sleeping you are dead 
Till you awake and rise, here, or beyond the skies. 

Why should it be a wrench to leave your wooden bench? 

Why not with happy shout run home when school is out? 

The dear ones left behind—O foolish ones and blind, 

A day, and you will meet—a night, and you will greet. 

This is the death of Death, to breathe away a breath 
And know the end of strife, and taste the deathless life. 

And joy without a fear, and smile without a tear. 

And work, nor care to rest, and find the last the best. 

T he Silver Brook camp had again taken 
on its usual activities. Two weeks had 
passed since the campers’ return from 
Louie’s cabin, and they were daily expecting 
him to pass by on his way to Orendaga with his 
load of furs. Gray and Blake had volunteered 
to help Louie into the village with his heavy 
packs. 

One morning as they were at breakfast, 
Louie opened the door of their cabin and stuck 
his head inside. Abe and Theodore were close 
at his side. 

^‘Jest in time t’ eat,” greeted Blake,, while 


283 


284 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-mtjck Cave 


the others rose from the table to greet their 
visitors. Louie did not seem to be himself. 
The old trapper was pale under his bronzed 
skin, and his greeting was restrained. 

^^Bon jour, ma frienM I lak jus’ wan cup 
coffee. I ’ave ze pain in side,” he confessed. 

teenk pack ’ave too mooch heavy, an’ maybe 
Igetol’.” 

‘‘Yep,” broke in Abe, looking at Louie with 
a worried wrinkle on his forehead, “Louie fell 
down—fainted—back up th ’ trail. Worked on 
his packs all night, ’bout, so’s he could start 
early this mornin’.” 

“We wanted t’ do it fer him,” said Theo¬ 
dore, “but th’ ol’ feller made us go t’ bed, an’ 
he kep’ on workin’.” 

‘ ‘ Eet ees not ’ing — n ’importe, ’ ’ insisted 
Louie. “I am jus’ get ol’ an’ cannot do so 
mooch as wen I am young lak Tom here.” He 
attempted a laugh, but suddenly caught his 
hand to his side and winced. Blake looked 
at him in quick concern, and helped him into 
a chair. 

“We’ll look after him from now on,” Gray 
promised. “There are enough of us here to 
divide the packs so that Louie won’t have to 
carry anything.” 

“Huh,” grunted Abe, “we ain’t goin’ t’ let 
yuh go on ’lone. Me an’ Theodore’ll stick by 
yuh ’til yuh don’t need us no more.” 

Louie nodded abstractedly, as if he had heard 



Louie Slips Out in the Night 


285 


but did not comprehend. Abe and Theodore 
sat down and ate a good breakfast, but the 
trapper only drank a cup of coiffee. 

‘‘Now I res’ unteel you boys ready for go 
on ze trail again,” he said, going to Blake’s 
bunk. 

In a little more than an hour they were 
struggling down the trail through the deep 
snow, Louie having protested that he was quite 
fit again and able to hold his own on the march. 
It was an odd procession, headed by Tom and 
Bill who pulled the long sled piled with hides, 
securely tied down; Gray pushed the sled from 
behind. Then came Louie, followed by Blake 
who carried the heavy pack, while Abe and 
Theodore brought up the rear. For much of 
the way, the trail had to be broken through the 
snow, and frequent drifts made progress slow 
and difficult. Toward noon the sim broke 
through the clouds with a blinding brilliance. 
Now and again they crossed deer runways, and 
Louie occasionally pointed out a rabbit and 
fox tracks along the sides of the trail. Several 
times he asked to rest after climbing a hill or 
plodding through an unusually deep drift. 
Alarmed glances passed from man to man 
among the others, for it was indeed strange 
that Louie should lag behind or accept any 
assistance on the trails over the mountains. 
He took advantage of his resting periods to 
talk, in disconnected phrases, of his love for 



286 


The Mysteky of Kijn-ja-muok Cave 


this valley of the Kun-ja-muck, and delighted 
in praising every outstanding and peculiarly 
shaped hill. Again he would stand in silent 
admiration of the beautiful panoramas before 
them as the little cavalcade crossed some higher 
elevation. 

It was on their way down from Elm Lake, 
just before they made the curve toward Oren- 
daga, that Blake observed Louie walking with 
his left hand pressed tightly against his heart. 
Twice the old trapper was asked to ride the 
rest of the way on top of the load of furs; and 
as Gray heard the proposal he turned sharply 
to get its meaning, for to add more to the load 
which they were already tugging would make 
the progress almost impossible. He caught 
Blake’s look and realized that the situation 
was serious. 

^^Come, Louie,” he urged firmly, ‘^we can 
get along all right. You stretch out on top 
and help to hold the top skins on.” 

^‘No, no, ma frien’,” replied the trapper. 
^‘Bet ees not’ing. Jus’ go slow—eet ees leetle 
hard for walk; we are not far from ze village 
now.” 

What it cost Louie Lament to walk down the 
Kun-ja-muck trail, his friends were not to 
know until later; he talked little, practically 
none, of his illness, his concern being for those 
who were bearing his load. He worried more 
about their fatigue than his own pain. 



Louie Slips Out in the Night 


287 


They reached the Bearf oot Inn just at dark. 
Great was the delight of those who had watched 
for their coming, and word soon went about 
the village that Gray and Blake had returned 
with Louie Lamont. 

Mike and his gang gathered that night be¬ 
hind closed blinds, discussing ways and means 
of getting the money which Louie would re¬ 
ceive from his furs; but a very different scene 
was taking place at the Bearfoot Inn. In the 
Woods Boom were gathered Mattie, Uncle 
David, and Mrs. Livingstone, with those who 
had come down from the Silver Brook Camp. 
Louie was given the place of honor before the 
great open fire; he sat in the big chair, where 
Mattie had put a cushion under his back and a 
pillow under his head. Tom and Bill vied with 
each other in removing the old Frenchman’s 
boots, drawing on to his feet a pair of knitted 
woolen slippers which Mattie insisted that he 
wear. Louie let them have their way; his smile 
was wan,, the ghost of what it had formerly 
been. He seemed very tired, but otherwise 
comfortable, apparently as contented and as 
much at home as though it were his own family 
in his camp on the Kun-ja-muck. 

Presently he asked Blake to play for them; 
and so they spent the evening, Mattie accom¬ 
panying Blake on the piano. Louie had men¬ 
tioned his desire to purchase his supplies the 
next day, in order that he might get back to 



288 


The Mystery of Khh-ja-mijok Cave 


the woods as soon as possible, and the protests 
of his friends could not dissuade him from 
the idea. He insisted that his heart would be 
as sound as ever in the morning and asked that 
he be called for breakfast. 

Gray and Blake assisted him up the stairs 
and saw him safely in bed. 

‘‘Ton ^ave mak me ver’ happy, ma frienV’ 
said the old trapper. The candle was then 
blown out and they bade him “Good-night!” 

Uncle David had sounded the first gong for 
breakfast before Gray and Blake met in the 
living room. Mattie and the Mother of the 
Inn gave them a cheery “Good-morning!’^ 

“What do you think of letting Louie rest for 
another hour or so?” asked the girl. think 
he ought to stay in bed.” 

“He was sleeping very quietly,” said Uncle 
David, “when I looked in on him a little while 
ago.” 

“I don’t think we’d better do that, unless 
he consents to it,” said Blake. “Gray an’ I 
promised t’ git him up in time fer breakfast. 
He seems t’ have some special reason. . . .” 

“Well,” agreed Mattie reluctantly, “I sup¬ 
pose you’d better keep your word with him, and 
then let him decide what he wants to do. But 
he ought to rest—^he looked terribly worn last 
night.” 

Gray and Blake went up to his room. They 
hesitated at the door, and Blake said to Gray, 



Louie Slips Out in the Night 


289 


Yuh best look in first—^tben ’f he ain’t awake 
we c’n go in quiet an’ call him.” 

Grray opened the door and looked toward the 
bed where the old trapper lay. ^‘He’s fast 
asleep, just as Uncle David said.” 

Together they tip-toed to the bedside and 
bent over the quiet form. Louie’s face bore 
a faint smile, and his eyes were closed; but 
there was no tell-tale rise and fall of the cover¬ 
let,, no sound of breathing. Startled, the men 
looked into each other’s eyes. Then Gray laid 
his hand gently on the trapper’s forehead. 

Louie—^is—dead!” 

Side by side, with bowed heads, those two 
strong men stood by the body of Louie Lament, 
stricken at the passing of him whom they had 
come to admire and trust. At length Gray 
drew the sheet over the old guide’s face, after 
one long look at the smile which wreathed the 
lifeless lips. 

Two days later they buried Louie Lament 
beneath the great pine whose branches hung, 
heavy with snow, over the corner of the little 
cemetery beside the village school. Gray and 
Blake, with four of the older guides who knew 
and loved the old Frenchman, carried his coffin 
from the little white church, down the road 
to its final resting place. Behind, followed all 
the children of Orendaga, with the other vil¬ 
lagers, a hush over the entire procession. In 
their minds lingered the words which Paul 



290 


The Mystery of Ktjh-ja-muck Cave 


Ward had said as the brief service came to a 
close: ^‘For this God is our God for ever and 
ever; He will be our guide, even unto death’’ 
—and the smile on Louie’s face confirmed the 
words. 

Slowly the little band of mourners filed into 
the school yard, through the new fallen snow, 
and past the gate into the burial ground. Each 
child bore a twig of evergreen, and as they 
walked by the open grave the small branches 
were dropped in, making for their friend a 
balsam bed upon which to take his eternal 
sleep. 



CHAPTEE XXIV. 


EIGHT PEEVAILS 

Somebody near you is struggling alone 
Over life’s desert sand; 

Faith, hope and courage together are gone, 
Eeach him a helping hand; 

Turn on his darkness a beam of your light; 
Kindle, to guide him, a beacon-fire bright; 
Cheer his discouragement, soothe his affright 
Lovingly help him to stand. 

Somebody near you is hungry and cold; 

Send him some aid to-day; 

Somebody near you is feeble and old. 

Left without human stay. 

Under his burden put hands kind and strong: 
Speak to him tenderly, sing him a song; 

Haste to do something to help him along 
Over his weary way. 

—My Brother and I. 


R ob STEVENS, the keeper of the village 
store, in whom most of the legal powers 
of the town were vested, instructed Gray 
and Blake to proceed as Louie Lament’s execu¬ 
tors on the day following the funeral. Accord¬ 
ingly, Gray arranged with a fur dealer for the 
disposition of the old trapper’s packs. 

Guess this’ll end all trace o’ th’ Kun-ja- 
muck myst ’ry, ’ ’ said Cal Wilks as he joined the 
men in Stevens’ store that evening. 

Seems that way,” replied Isaiah Pikes, 
^^but we’d oughter be satisfied with what Gray 

291 


292 


The Mysteky of Khn-ja-mhck Cave 


an’ Jack Blake did fer Louie, even if we don’t 
learn no more ’bout tb’ myst’ry.” 

Don’t seem t’ care so much, now that 
Louie’s gone,” rejoined Stevens a little sadly. 
‘^But jest tb’ same Cray an’ Jack says they 
ain’t goin’ t’ fergit them lone people up tbar in 
tb’ woods.” 

On the next day Gray and Blake again set 
out on the Kun-ja-muck trail. Old Abe bad 
told them that Louie left a considerable quan¬ 
tity of skins stored away in the attic of bis 
cabin, and they bad decided to make sure that 
everything was in order at the old French¬ 
man’s camp before beginning their search for 
those whom Louie had been protecting. Cray 
and Blake had reconciled themselves to the fact 
that the mystery of the cave would probably 
now go unsolved; and yet they reasoned that 
the strangers might be compelled to disclose 
themselves in order to get the supplies with 
which Louie had formerly kept them fur¬ 
nished. 

The two men plodded over the trail in 
silence; Louie had played so important a part 
in their lives for the last six months, that even 
in their close friendship for each other they 
could not find an adequate substitute for the 
companionship of the Frenchman. They 
stopped at the Silver Brook camp for addi¬ 
tional supplies, but soon hastened on to Louie’s 
cabin. Even before they had time to start a 




Right Prevails 


293 


fire in the great stone fireplace, they heard 
Scenty scratching at the door. The noise oc¬ 
casioned an exchange of perplexed glances. It 
had been easy enough for them to say they 
would take care of the pets, but they instantly 
realized that to do it, without Louie being pres¬ 
ent, was no easy undertaking. 

‘‘We’ll build the fire first, and then feed 
them—but not in here,” proposed Gray. 

Packs were opened and food for each of the 
animals laid out. 

“Them beasts sure must be hungry,” ob¬ 
served Blake. “Course they c’n go an’ come 
as they want, but they must o’ looked t’ Louie 
fer food, ’specially in th’ winter.” 

“Well, we’ll go around and xmlock the side 
gate of the corral. If we begin to feed them 
here, they’ll soon recognize us as friends.” 

Acting on this suggestion, the two men found 
the pets crowding up to the cabin door, ready 
to leap when it should be opened. The food 
apparently did not satisfy their hunger com¬ 
pletely, and they unmistakably begged for 
more. 

“Let’s see if they’ll follow us t’ th’ front 
door,” said Blake. 

The pets were, strange to say, as friendly and 
considerate with Gray and Blake as with 
Louie; and after giving them some more food 
the men went inside to prepare their own sup¬ 
per. Quite naturally, during the meal, their 



294 


The Mystery of Ktji^-ja-mijce: Caye 


talk drifted to serious things; the two men had 
implicit confidence in each other, and spoke 
frankly their inmost thoughts. 

On this night Gray told Jack Blake of the 
change that had come in his life during his 
stay in the Adirondacks; how he had reacted 
to the beauty and largeness of nature, the in¬ 
fluence of sincere and guileless men and 
women, and the spiritual realities of Louie 
Lament. 

As Gray paused in his talk while Blake put 
another log on the fire,, he chanced to turn his 
eyes to the window, and was startled to behold 
the face of a man framed there. Blake’s back 
was turned and he failed to see either the appa¬ 
rition or the look of consternation on Gray’s 
face. As the latter stared, dumbfounded, he 
realized intuitively that those searching eyes 
which sought him who was not there, could 
belong to none other than the ‘‘Governor” 
whom Louie had been protecting. As Gray 
came to himself and called to Blake the face 
disappeared. 

“A face. Jack, the Governor!” snapped 
Gray. ‘ ‘ Quick, we ’ll get him! ’ ’ 

Both men rushed to the door and out onto 
the porch. The impenetrable darkness pre¬ 
vented their seeing more than a few feet 
beyond the cabin; overhead the pines groaned 
and strained in the wind, but no other sound 
could be heard. 



Eight Pkevails 


295 


‘^Halloa!’’ shouted Gray. His voice rever¬ 
berated down the valley weirdly, but was sud¬ 
denly drowned by the wind. Again he shouted, 
only to be mocked by the unexpected roar of 
a gust. The men stood on the porch for sev¬ 
eral minutes, hoping that the stranger, if alone, 
would conquer his timidity and come to the 
cabin. 

‘ ‘ Come in! ’ ’ invited Jack, and the hills threw 
back his plea unanswered. At last they re¬ 
turned to the fire inside, glad to feel its warmth 
again, for the blasts out of the north had chilled 
them to the marrow. Gray sat down upon the 
bearskin rug before the hearth, while Blake 
filled his pipe and sank into one of the great 
chairs near at hand; both men kept their eyes 
upon the little window, hoping for a return 
of their mysterious visitor. Presently Gray 
spoke. 

‘ ‘ He was looking for Louie. He did not even 
seem to see us.’’ 

^‘What’d we best do?” 

Let’s wait and see if he comes again. If 
he doesn’t appear, we’ll go in search of him 
when we’ve settled Louie’s affairs here at the 
cabin.” 

For another hour they talked, mapping out 
their plan of action for the next few days. 
The animals in the corral had been noisy all 
the evening, but as Gray and Blake were about 
to lie down in their blankets, the disturbance 



296 


The Mysteey of Khh-ja-mhck Cave 


became so pronounced that they both re¬ 
marked it. 

Funny they’re kickin’ up such a fuss, all 
on a sudden, ’ ’ said Blake. ‘ ‘ Jest listen t ’ Baby 
growl. ’ ’ 

“I have been listening to him. He seems 
to be running from one gate to the other. I 
guess we fed them too much.” 

^H’d open th’ door an’ give ’em th’ dickens,” 
mused Blake, ‘^only they’d all be in th’ house 
in a minute. ’F they keep it up we best go 
out with th’ big torch an’ see what’s up.” 

The pets quieted down for a moment, and 
the men began to make up their bunks in 
silence. 

‘ ^ We ’re both thinking about the same thing, ’ ’ 
said Gray after a little while. 

Blake smiled. Guess we be,” he answered. 
^ ‘ D ’yuh think th ’ Governor ’ll be back t ’night ? ’ ’ 

‘‘That’s the question. Baby knows him as 
well or better than Louie, and I can’t help 
putting two and two together.” 

“But why’d th’ bear growl? He never did 
it with Louie, ’cept when he was chased out 
with th’ poker.” 

“There’s Baby at it again!” said Gray, 
startled and somewhat nervous. The bear 
seemed to be banging against the gate of the 
corral in considerable excitement. 

Blake seized and lighted two of Louie’s 
home-made torches; they were well seasoned 



Right Prevails 


297 


and pitched, and blazed up brightly. The men 
pulled their caps over their ears, but did not 
wait to don any heavier clothing before run¬ 
ning outside. They had just jumped off the 
end of the porch when Blake came upon fresh 
foot tracks in the snow. He nudged Gray with 
his elbow, indicating the tracks, and together 
they followed them around the cabin. 

^^All men, four of ’em anyways, wearin’ 
heavy boots an’ not moccasins!” whispered 
Blake. ^^All mixed up,” he continued to mut¬ 
ter, his eyes following the tracks closely. 
^‘Thar goes th’ tracks—each one fer himself!” 

“Do you think Baby got after them?” ques¬ 
tioned Gray in an undertone. 

“Sh! Not so loud,” cautioned the other. 
“They ain’t so fer away, an’ they c’n see what¬ 
ever we do with these here torches.” 

“They may be friends and not foes,” re¬ 
torted Gray in a whisper. 

“ ’Tain’t likely. Th’ Governor didn’t come 
in, an’ he ain’t a foe, ’s far ’s we know.” 

“Here comes Baby,” announced Gray anx¬ 
iously. “We’d better see what he’ll do.” 

Running up to Blake, the bear acted just like 
a good-natured dog let out for a frolic. Then 
he dropped on all fours and sniffed the tracks 
which the men had followed around the cabin. 

‘ ^ He knows whar they be, ’ ’ commented Blake 
softly. “Come on. Gray,” he continued in his 
natural voice. Then in a whisper, “We’ll put 



298 


The Mystery of Kxjh-ja-muck Cave 


out th’ torches at th’ door. You go inside an’ 
slam th’ door, an’ I’ll stay outside on guard. 
Baby’ll stay with me.” 

^^Here comes Scenty,” interrupted Gray. 

‘ ‘ Take him inside with yuh, ’ ’ directed Blake. 

He’ll only whine an’ want t’ be fed ’f he stays 
here.” 

The skunk followed closely on Gray’s heels 
as he entered the cabin. The man had just 
laid another log on the fire when he heard a 
sudden fierce growl from Baby and a challenge 
from Blake. ‘ ‘ Who be yuh 1 ’ ’ 

Hands up, er we’ll fire!” came a gruff voice 
from the thicket. 

There was a long moment of silence, punc¬ 
tuated by another growl from the bear. 

^‘Put your hands up, quick!” came the com¬ 
mand from the strange voice. 

^‘Waal, how d’yuh know my hands ain’t 
up?” was the cool answer. 

Gray, meanwhile, had lost no time in seizing 
two of Louie’s best guns. He examined them 
hastily to make certain they were loaded, and 
slipped out the back door, through the dark¬ 
ness, to Blake’s side. There was no light out¬ 
side the cabin, and Gray concluded that who¬ 
ever was in the thicket could not be positive 
of the position of Blake and himself. Thrust¬ 
ing a gun toward the woodsman, he noticed 
that Baby lay at Blake’s feet, watching the 
thicket whence the voice had come. 



Eight Prevails 


299 


Mike Murphy an’ his gang,” asserted 
Blake as he took the gun. ‘‘Go t’ th’ back o’ 
th’ cabin an’ come in on ’em from th’ side. 
I’ll draw ’em on here.” 

Gray disappeared, Blake and the bear mov¬ 
ing to a place behind a large tree. 

“Why don’t yuh come on, Mike?” demanded 
Blake. “I can’t hold my hands up all night. 
I know jest what yuh’re after—Louie’s gone, 
an’ yuh want t’ steal what’s left. Why don’t 
yuh come an’ git it?” 

For some moments after Blake’s challenge, 
nothing could be heard from the thicket. Baby 
lay at the guide’s feet without a whimper, 
scenting in first one direction and then another, 
an indication that the gang was scattering, 
Indian like, intending to make a simultaneous 
rush from several angles. Nearer they came, 
the soft snow deadening the sound of their ap¬ 
proach ; they seemed to hesitate about making 
the final leap at Blake, possibly because they 
were not sure of his exact position. At a sud¬ 
den shout from their leader, the four men 
bounded for the cabin porch like so many rav¬ 
enous wolves, sure of their prey. As they 
reached the first step, Blake muttered a few 
words to the bear, gave him a push—and in an 
instant the beast was in their midst, growling 
and snarling in vicious fury as he sought to 
lay hold on one of the intruders. 

Gray, at the other side of the cabin, could 



300 


The Mysteky of Ktjn-ja-mtjck Cave 


hear naught but the scuffle in the snow, the 
growls of the bear, and occasional screams of 
profanity. As he rushed into the scuffle a rifle 
exploded on the night air, and he saw Blake 
charging on the struggling mass from the op¬ 
posite side. In a moment a form detached it¬ 
self from the group and with a flood of curses 
ran for the woods. The man tripped and fell, 
and immediately the bear was upon him. 

‘ ^ God help me! ’ ’ Gray heard the piercing cry 
and ran toward the victim of the bear’s savage 
attack. 

^^Baby„ Baby! Heck, Baby!” called Gray, 
laying hold on the animal and tearing him 
away. The bear obeyed reluctantly, releasing 
his captive with many a low growl and baring 
of teeth. 

Hands up!” commanded Gray, levelling 
his gun at the man, who had risen and seemed 
ready to flght again. He backed the intruder 
against the cabin where the feeble light from 
within shone through the window. Looking at 
the man closely. Gray realized that he had 
never seen him before. He searched him care¬ 
fully, found that he possessed no weapon, and 
ordered him to stay where he was, in the dim 
light. 

‘Hf you move,” promised Gray, ‘H’ll shoot 
to kill.” 

^‘All right,” said the stranger. reckon 
I’m safe enough. You won’t have to kill me.” 



Right Prevails 


301 


Gray turned his attention to the battle by 
the porch steps. Blake had put one of his as¬ 
sailants out of the fight completely, and Gray 
now leaped toward one of the others, unseen, 
and held him up at the point of his rifie. After 
a brief tussle, Blake got the other by the throat 
and forced him into submission; the man 
proved to be Mike Murphy himself. Sandy 
Edwards stood sullenly at the end of Gray’s 
gun, while Sam Woodward slowly picked him¬ 
self up from the snow and stood silently with 
hanging head. 

‘‘So, it’s th’ three of yuh, huh!” panted 
Blake. “Waal, git inside th’ cabin thar, fast!” 
With their hands above their heads, the trio 
limped into the cabin. Gray calling to the stran¬ 
ger that he was to follow them. While Gray 
covered the men with his rifle, Blake went 
through their pockets for weapons, removing 
Mike’s long bowie knife which hung in a 
leather sheath at his belt. 

“Who be you?” asked Blake savagely as he 
came to the stranger. 

“I’m from the city,” was the answer. 

“Long ways from home, ain’t yuh? What 
yuh doin’ in this here mix-up?” 

The stranger pointed to Mike, prefacing his 
answer with a stream of curses. “He sent for 
me to take charge of—” 

“You keep yer mouth shut or I’ll kill yuh 
when I git a chance,” snarled Mike. 



302 


The Mystery of Ktih-ja-mhck Cave 


‘‘And I ain^t even seen enough to eat since 
I been here/’ continued the stranger. “If 
you’ll let me go, I’ll get out of this wilderness 
so far you’ll never hear of me again. Talk 
about crooks and bootleggers! He beats ’em 
all. The Bowery never had one bad’s him. 
Bootleggin’ll make a devil out o’ the best man.” 

Sam and Sandy stood sniffling and shifting 
from one foot to the other as if they wanted to 
speak, but were afraid. 

“Waal, what’s th’ matter with you fellers?” 
demanded Blake, “snifflin’ there like two 
boobs?” Hain’t yuh got no manhood left? 
Sold out body an’ soul, have yuh, t’ this here 
rum-runnin’ bully, Mike ? Looks t’ me’s if he 
calc’lated t’ fix you fellers so’s yuh’d never be 
good fer anythin’ but doin’ his dirty work 
ferhim.” 

“Wa—al,” sniffed Sam, “what kin we do, 
with him after us all th’ time, bringin’ us 
moonshine, makin’ us drink, an’ tellin’ us if we 
don’t help him in his rum business he’ll run 
us out o’ th’ country er fix us so’s we’ll 
starve?” 

“That’s just what Abe and Theodore used 
to say,” broke in Gray, who, now that the men 
were disarmed, rested the butt of his rifle on 
the floor beside him. “Abe used to say he’d 
gone too far, couldn’t help himself; that the 
devil had got him, and he might as well give 
up. But when Louie got hold of him and 



Right Pkevails 


303 


showed him there was a power that could break 
the grip of evil on a man and make him over, 
things began to look different. 

And now look at Abe, clean, and a man that 
you can trust.’’ 

‘^You fellers ought t’ be ’shamed o’ your- 
sel’s,” said Blake, as he laid the guns and knife 
he had taken from them on the table. 

‘‘Think o’ yer wives and children hungry 
an’ shiverin’ with th’ cold down in yer cabins 
yonder, while yer runnin’ round up here with 
Mike tryin’ t’ steal Louie’s things an’ turn his 
camp into a bootleggin’ joint. Yuh look ’s if 
yuh hadn’t had anythin’ t’ eat yersel’s fer 
quite a spell.” 

“Ain’t et nothin’ all day,” replied Sam, who 
looked more sheepish than ever. 

Blake locked up the seized weapons in one 
of the cupboards along the wall, and got some 
cold potatoes and coffee for the four men, who 
cringed now at a look from either Gray or 
Blake. They ate with a very bad grace, Mike 
trying to be as insolent as possible without stir¬ 
ring his hosts to further violence. 

“Guess you fellers best stay right here fer 
th ’ night, ’ ’ said Blake presently. “ We ’ll make 
yuh safe enough.” 

The four would-be thieves lay down on the 
floor to rest as best they might. Blake awoke 
several times during the night, but saw that all 
was well, so he felt no cause for worry. 



304 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


When morning dawned Blake gave the men 
twenty minutes to eat breakfast and leave the 
cabin. After the stated time, he set them loose 
on the trail, without their weapons. As they 
started off he called a word of warning to Mike, 
who with an insolent sneer led the way. They 
were indeed a sorry looking crew, their faces 
scratched from the fight in the bush, and 
bruises on their heads and hands, as they 
trailed, like whipped dogs, after their master. 

As Gray and Blake watched them limp out 
of sight down the trail they were both thinking 
the same thing. 

‘‘What a beast that Mike is, anyway,’^ broke 
out Gray. 

“If it weren’t for him, Sam and Sandy 
could straighten up and act like men. But just 
look at them now! Hardly a spark of man¬ 
hood left in either of them—everything fine 
and noble about them drowned by the stuff they 
pour down their throats—slaves to appetites 
and the evil mind of this vicious bootlegger!” 



CHAPTER XXV. 


FINDING THE LIGHT 

Once upon a time, in regions far away, 

There came a drought, so dreadful, as men say. 

That the rivers, springs and running brooks were dried. 
And every plant and flower had drooped and died. 

The birds, poor suffering creatures, ceased to sing. 

And all the land was famishing. 

She saw a sad and careworn stranger stand 
Before the door, and in his trembling hand 
She placed the cup with cooling crystal draught 
For which all thirsted, but which none had quaffed. 

He took, and lo! a soft and yet a radiant light. 

About him shone, and glorified the night, 

“Blessed is he,” in loving accents came, 

“That gives a cup of water in my name.” 

Six sparkling diamonds gemmed the golden cup 
And from within, there came all bursting up 
A fountain, sending out on every hand 
Clear, flowing streams, that watered all the land. 

The diamonds rose above the tree-tops far. 

Till each in heaven’s high dome became a star; 

There nightly, still the upward gazing eye 
Beholds the starry dipper in the sky. 

Showing the world with what a light divine. 

Through all the years, unselfish acts may shine. 

O N Friday morning, Gray proposed that 
they visit the Kun-ja-muck Cave that 
afternoon. They had watched in vain 
for the Governor’s return, and upon looking 
for his tracks the morning after the apparition 


305 


306 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck; Cave 


at the window, they found them obliterated 
by the blowing snow. Things were pretty well 
settled now at Louie’s cabin,, since the two men 
had taken all the remaining furs down to Oren- 
daga and had arranged for the disposal of 
most of the cabin furnishings. The buildings 
themselves were to remain in Blake’s charge; 
he had decided to board up the cabin for the 
present, and just after announcing this plan 
to Gray, the latter surprised his friend seated 
on the porch in a fit of deep abstraction. 

^‘What’s the trouble, old man?” asked Gray, 
while Blake started out of his reverie with a 
short laugh. 

‘‘I was jest thinkin’,” drawled Blake. 
‘‘This here cabin an’ fixin’s would make a 
great place t’ live durin’ th’ summer—’spe¬ 
cially ’f yuh had a fam’ly. Mattie jest loves 
it up here, too,” he added irrelevantly. 

They lost little time in preparing for the trip 
to the cave, piling Louie’s sled with supplies 
and blankets, with a light pack for each man 
in addition. 

“We c’n git t’ Elm Lake b’fore dark,” ob¬ 
served Blake as they were about to start off, an 
hour or so after the noon-day meal. “We best 
stop at th’ Silver Brook camp t’ see ’f every¬ 
thin’s all right, an’ from thar we c’n foiler th’ 
Kun-ja-muck, walkin’ on th’ ice, across th’ 
lake.” 

Everything at the Silver Brook cabin was as 



Finding the Light 


307 


they had left it. Fresh tracks, however, were 
found around the cabin, and these they studied 
very carefully. 

^‘They belong t’ a man an’ woman,” said 
Blake after a close scrutiny, ‘^an’ they both 
wore home-made moccasins. They must’ve 
been here las’ night, or this forenoon, ’cause it 
snowed ’til ’bout midnight las’ night. ’Pears 
like they only come this far an’ went back down 
th’ Kun-ja-muck when they saw thar wa’n’t 
nobody t’ home here.” 

The men followed the tracks as long as the 
light would permit, but as they came to the 
bend where South Pine Lake empties into the 
Kun-ja-muck, the tracks led to the east trail, 
higher up on the mountain side. 

We’ll go straight to the cave,” proposed 
Gray. ‘ ‘ Talk just as much as you want to. Jack 
—I don’t think we’d better try to take them 
by surprise.” 

In less than two hours after they left Elm 
Lake, Gray and Blake were standing before the 
entrance to the Kun-ja-muck Cave. The mouth 
of the cavern was blocked by a stout wooden 
barricade, in which was a door that opened 
outward. As the place was in complete dark¬ 
ness, they searched for tracks with their lan¬ 
terns, but without finding a trace of a human 
being. 

‘‘Blessed ’f that ain’t funny,” muttered 
Blake. “We foilered ’em’s far’s that moun- 



308 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-mijck Cave 


tain brook over tbar, but from tbar t’ here 
there ainT no sign o’ life.” 

Gray pounded on the door of the cave, and 
halloaed loudly; the only reply was an echo that 
sounded down the valley. The men determined 
to build a fire in front of the cave and to rest 
and get warm before continuing their quest. 

Perhaps they’ll see our fire and come to 
us,” suggested Gray. After an hour of desul¬ 
tory conversation he asked Blake if it were not 
better to eat before going farther. Blake re¬ 
plied in the affirmative, and they unpacked the 
basket which had been prepared for their own 
need and others,, if necessary. 

They had just finished eating and were won¬ 
dering where to spend the night, when a man 
stepped from the shadows into the bright circle 
of fire light. He was clad in fur suit and cap, 
and wore moccasins, enabling him to approach 
the two men without warning them of his com¬ 
ing. Gray and Blake had their backs turned 
to the stranger, when Gray suddenly wheeled 
about and beheld the same face he had seen 
through the window of Louie’s cabin. 

^‘Have you any news of Louie Lament ?” the 
stranger asked in a low, faltering voice, as 
though the words were spoken with great 
effort. Blake swung around at the sound of 
the man’s voice, and advanced to Gray’s side. 

‘‘You—you—are the Governor?” questioned 
Gray, all else forgotten in the moment of meet- 



Finding the Light 


309 


ing, face to face, the mysterious man of the 
Kun-ja-muck Cave. 

‘‘That is what Louie called me,’’ replied the 
man hurriedly, “hut speak, has anything hap¬ 
pened to him?” 

As he put the question anxiously, a second 
person slipped from the shadows and came 
quietly and quickly to his side. They were 
dressed alike; but the newcomer was smaller 
than the Governor, slim but strong with a 
supple grace. As the face passed out of the 
shadow into the fire light. Gray and Blake 
saw that it was a girl of not more than twenty 
—Louie’s “Queen.” As the Governor searched 
their faces apprehensively for news of Louie, 
the two men stared at the striking beauty of 
the girl in wonderment. 

“Is he living or dead?” The Governor 
stretched out his hand even as he spoke, as 
if fearing the worst. 

‘ ‘ Louie Lament lives—but his body is dead, ’ ’ 
replied Gray solemnly. The very mention of 
the old trapper’s death brought back to him 
a flood of memories that held him in silence 
for a moment. The girl grasped the Governor’s 
arm convulsively and buried her head on his 
shoulder, but she did not sob audibly. For a 
moment the man dropped his head, his lips 
moving inaudibly; then he stood erect and 
stretched his hand slowly to Gray, then to 
Blake. 



310 


The Mystery of Kuh-ja-mijck Cave 


already know your name, sir,’^ he said 
slowly, but firmly, ^^and also that of Mr. Blake. 
I have known you both through Louie, and 
have trusted you even as you trusted him. My 
name is Harrison—^and this is my daughter, 
Dolly.’’ 

The girl grasped the hands of Gray and 
Blake in turn, giving each a smile, but afraid 
to trust her voice to speak quite yet. The shock 
of Louie’s death was poignant to her; it was 
hard to realize that the only friend she and 
her father had had for three years had slipped 
out silently in the night. They sat by the fire 
quietly for a little while, the Governor and the 
Queen struggling to adjust themselves to this 
new order of things, now that their friend and 
protector was gone; Gray and Blake searching 
their minds for words to make it easier. Pres¬ 
ently, at the girl’s request. Gray told of Louie’s 
passing, as simply and in as few words as pos¬ 
sible. As he finished, her eyes were misty but 
her face radiant. 

‘‘The news you bring to us saddens us,” she 
said softly, placing her arm about her father’s 
shoulders, “yet we cannot but feel a joy that 
stirs our souls—for Louie came to be such a 
man! He was strong in faith, true to his prom¬ 
ises, and forgot himself altogether in his de¬ 
votion to others.” 

“We have here on Louie’s sled some sup¬ 
plies for you,” said Gray, abruptly directing 



Finding the Light 


311 


their minds away from that which was so 
trying. 

‘^You are just like Louie/’ said the Gov¬ 
ernor. ‘^He never failed us until now, and we 
knew that we should be provided for in the 
same thoughtful way that was his own. But 
come up to our cabin on the cliff—^where we 
have lived for three years. Louie helped us 
to build it, and there is room for you as there 
was always room for him.” 

‘^We would better follow the brook as far as 
the cliff,” said Dolly, smiling at Gray and 
Blake. ^^It will be much easier walking for 
our friends.” 

Gray and Blake accepted the Governor’s in¬ 
vitation eagerly. They gathered up the things 
they had used for supper, placing them in one 
of the packs; then, seizing the sleigh, they 
followed the Governor and the Queen. Dp 
over the ice on the frozen brook they went, 
along the base of the cliff which rose above the 
cave, and around to the rear of the almost 
perpendicular bluff. As they neared the top, 
the Governor fell back to help Gray and Blake 
with the sleigh, for the ascent was very steep 
and dangerously slippery in spots. Rounding 
the end of the cliff, they left the .brook and 
struck off directly through the woods in such 
a direction that they would reach the top of 
the precipice immediately above the cave. 
After a few minutes of plodding, a dark shape 



312 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-muck Cave 


loomed up ahead, and they approached what 
Gray and Blake rightly guessed to be a cabin. 
Dolly, who had been carrying a lantern, ran 
ahead; they heard a door open, and soon a light 
streamed out over the snow. 

Please come in!’’ called the girl, appearing 
in the doorway with a lighted candle in her 
hand. As they entered, the Governor asked his 
companions to bring Louie’s sleigh inside the 
cabin, where it might be unpacked more easily. 
The things were quickly taken off and handed 
to Dolly for disposal. She had removed her 
cap and coat, and as Gray looked at her face, 
flushed with the recent exercise, his pulses 
quickened and he dropped his eyes, surprised 
in the act of staring at her with ill-concealed 
admiration. 

After a hastily prepared meal. Gray and 
Blake were shown to their room in the west 
wing of the cabin. Conversation during the 
supper had been in snatches only, as the Gov¬ 
ernor and the Queen found it impossible, try 
hard as they might, to be themselves com¬ 
pletely under the shadow of their bereavement. 
Gray and Blake were as considerate as they 
knew how to be, and requested that they might 
be early in bed, as their day had been a hard 
one. 

And we thought they lived in a cave!” said 
Gray as he closed the door to their room. 

‘‘Waal,” said Blake, “we might o’ known 



Finding the Light 


313 


that anybody who could change Louie th’ way 
they did, couldn’t live in a hole in th’ rock. I 
guess they must o’ used th’ cave fer a kind o’ 
summer house.” 

Where are we, anyway. Jack? You know 
this region, and I must confess I don’t quite 
see where we came to along that brook.” 

^‘We’re somewhere ’bout th’ cave—that’s all 
I know. That brook’s what made us lose track 
o’ whar we was goin’. This here cabin must 
be on a ledge, cut off’n everythin’ else, with 
th’ stream th’ only approach.” 

^‘By all the loves of Pharaoh!” said Grray 
softly, after they had blown out the candle, 
we’ve got the mystery at last!” 

^^But we don’t know why they’re here!” re¬ 
minded Blake, pulling his blanket snugly 
around himself. 

Dolly and the Governor were up before dawn 
the next morning; they had slept but little, and 
Dolly found her father already sitting in his 
camp-made Morris chair when she came from 
her old-fashioned alcove, the front of which 
was screened with strings of pine cones and 
red berries. She and her father worked 
silently, putting the cabin in order and pre¬ 
paring breakfast for four. 

The sun shone into the front window of the 
cabin before Gray and Blake were called. The 
Governor greeted them both with a hearty 
hand shake as they came into the room. He 




314 


The Mystery of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


and Dolly were pleasantness itself during the 
meal; both were easy in their manner, and the 
devotion which they obviously felt for each 
other was almost childlike in its intensity and 
simplicity. 

After breakfast the Governor pushed back 
his chair and spoke to Dolly. 

will show these gentlemen the marvellous 
view from the cliff and Rainbow Falls, while 
you are doing the dishes.” 

^‘Oh, Daddy,” pleaded the girl, ‘‘are you 
going to desert me the very first time you have 
company ^ Think of it, you have stayed with 
me for three years—and now you’re going to 
leave me alone!” 

Gray looked at Dolly, and before he realized 
it, was begging to be allowed to stay at the 
cabin to help with the dishes. She laughingly 
insisted that he go to see the view, and was 
easily persuaded to come herself, leaving the 
work until later. 

“Dolly has tramped these hills with me for 
so long that even the trees and rocks seem to 
speak to her as she goes along,” said the Gov¬ 
ernor with a fond look at his daughter. 

Leading the little party to the top of the cliff, 
the Governor pointed out the Kun-ja-muck, 
icy and glittering in the sunlight, and far off 
down the valley, the Sacandaga, a white ribbon 
winding toward Orendaga. Beginning at the 
rock beside which they stood was a trail, ex- 



Finding the Light 


315 


tremely faint, leading around the end of the 
cliff opposite to the one they had encircled com¬ 
ing up the night before. 

‘‘It is the only way of reaching our cabin,’’ 
said the Giovernor, “except by the brook, as we 
came last night.” 

At Dolly’s suggestion they started down the 
barely discernible trail, planning to make the 
circuit of the cliff base, returning up the 
stream. 

“Waal, I’m blessed!” exclaimed Blake as he 
gazed about in perplexity. “I thought I knew 
every foot o’ this here country, fr’m th’ Sacan- 
daga t’ Round Lake, but I ain’t ever laid eyes 
on this place afore!” 

“Neither have any of the lumbermen,” re¬ 
plied the Governor. “You see, these trees up 
here are all virgin timber. There are not many 
of them, and I suppose they’re too hard to 
get at.” 

“That’s jest th’ reason they ain’t ever been 
disturbed,” affirmed Blake. 

The trail was slippery and treacherous; 
Gray proffered assistance to Dolly again and 
again, but she laughingly refused, skipping 
ahead of the others with a sureness of foot that 
surprised them. In a few minutes they reached 
the bottom and drew near the entrance to the 
cave. 

“We saw your fire and came down this way 
last night,’’ said Dolly. “We could hear every 



316 


The Mysteky of Kun-ja-muck Cave 


word you spoke. Look/’ pointing upward, 
^^do you see that overhanging tree, that maple, 
way up there on the cliff 

Gray craned his neck to see. 

‘‘That is just in front of our cabin,” con¬ 
tinued Dolly. “It has been our lookout ever 
since we’ve been here.” 

“Let us sit down in the lee of that great rock 
over there,” proposed the Governor, “and rest 
awhile.” 

As they made themselves comfortable, 
Richard Harrison became grave, and presently 
spoke. 

“I feel that this is where I should explain 
to you why Dolly and I are here, and why we 
have been here for the past three years,” he 
began slowly, weighing every word. “For fif¬ 
teen years I had been associated with one of the 
big universities here in the East—a professor 
of science; and now that I can look back upon 
those years I realize that the more I studied, 
the more knowledge I gained, the more my 
faith in things eternal became constantly con¬ 
tracted and dwarfed. I tried to have it other¬ 
wise, but in those surroundings, faith in any¬ 
thing that I could not fathom and explain 
seemed impossible. I became sure that science 
and religion were two very different creeds 
and could not be reconciled to each other. 
Dolly’s mother reasoned with me again and 
again, saying that I was wrong; and I felt 



Finding the Light 


317 


grieved to think she and Dolly could not be¬ 
lieve as I did. She told me that I had not seen 
far enough, and she was right—I must confess 
it now. Then, when my daughter was but 
eighteen, the mother passed away—’’ 

The Governor’s voice trembled, and Dolly 
drew near to her father, pressing his arm 
gently. 

could not imderstand her death—^it was 
so sudden, so unexpected, so unjust, I thought. 
How could there be a God so merciless—? 
Where could I go for comfort? Not to my 
science, not to my friends, not to the pleasures 
of the world—everything was black for me, 
black as midnight. I had read the Bible be¬ 
fore, of course, but mostly for the sake of dis¬ 
agreeing with the things which my science 
proved false; then I turned to it for comfort 
and light, reading it humbly, seeking for a 
faith that could satisfy. 

“The Christ I read about was driven to the 
wilderness for forty days—to come forth a 
victor; the Apostle Paul sought solitude for 
three years—and was made strong, never to 
be turned aside or confused again. So I came 
up to the hills with Dolly, to get away from 
things, to be alone, that I might settle the 
doubts which had shaken me so profoundly. 
And I have seen the great Light, much as did 
Paul on the road to Damascus. Ah, how I have 



318 


The Mysteky of Kuh-ja-mtjok Cave 


prayed on my knees in this very spot, pouring 
out my soul to that God who had taken from 
me my wife, begging that I might find the 
truth. And Dolly—^how she has comforted me 
with her steady faith. If she had not been 
with me to lead me on, I think I might have 
given up. 

‘^Ajid when the ‘Sun of righteousness arose 
with healing in his wings,’ I saw it was not 
wasting time to remain here in the woods; for 
in simple worship and communion with the 
Infinite I found such peace as I had never 
known. Our first Christmas was spent with 
Louie, as you know. Dolly became his guide, 
his ‘queen,’ and it was she who showed him the 
way. He told you how we had been sent into 
the wilderness to find him, in answer to the 
earnest prayers of his old mother—and to see 
him safe at last is worth the whole world. 
God touched Louie, and I saw him change. 
I did not understand the power of Christianity 
until I saw it make Louie Lament the man he 
grew to be. It is clear to me now, and I 
know.” 

The Governor’s voice died away into silence. 

“I, too, have seen,” said Gray, slowly, “seen 
the vision of life, and the power of Christian 
infiuence in Louie Lament. God has spoken 
to me through him and through nature, in a 
voice unmistakable.” 



Finding the Light 


319 


As the light of the morning streamed 
through the forest, Gray slowly turned his eyes 
from the splendor of the day to Dolly’s face, 
and in its radiance read that sympathy of 
imderstanding which filled his heart with a 
new peace. 


The End. 











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